Where everybody knows your name...

I think we may have found our local watering hole! On Thursday night, after dinner, I suggested that we go to a little izakaya (a bar that serves snacks and such) up the road that we had seen before. It looked incredibly small, with room for only 10 stools pressed up against the bar, the wall almost scraping the chair back. It had looked funky and full of character.

So, with Ryan as our translator and guide, we got Derek, another teacher, to go with us for drinks and snacks. It was a total blast! It was one of those great cultural experiences where everyone has a good time, laughing at each others jokes in languages we don't understand, sharing food and fun. I am sure the beer and sake helped...

When the four of us opened the door and crowded in, there was only one customer at the bar and two guys behind it. They were right out of central casting. The tall younger one was goofy and chatty. The short older guy who ran the grill was quieter but still funny in a reserved way. They were quite surprised to see four foreigners appear out of the night. Once Ryan told them where we lived and worked, they relaxed and opened up almost immediately.

We ordered a round of 500 ml Asahi beers and some snacks: grilled fish (whole), shitake mushrooms, and large green onions. We drank and nibbled, learning vocabulary from the bar guys. Soon, more customers came in, filling the bar. The building is slightly wedge shaped, so one end of the bar had to narrow to make room for the chairs. The space behind the bar is so narrow that the bartender cannot get his body to the end of the bar where the beer taps are, so he has to lean way over and reach for the taps. At one point, one of the regulars just leaned over the bar and refilled his own mug. The grill is tucked back in the other corner and looks like a complete fire hazard with a buildup of grease on the wall. And when I say grill, I mean like a BBQ grill with charcol burning in a rough metal box...

A lady was sitting next to me, probably in her 50's. She had ordered some food that we saw being made but couldn't tell what it was. When Ryan asked, the cook held up this long pink ribbon of flesh. Oh, grilled pig intestine, of course. So, when the dish was put in front of her, I eyeballed it with some concern. We had been talking earlier, trading bar vocabulary, and when she saw me looking at her food, she grabbed one with her chopsticks and said, quite clearly, "Challange!" I looked at Ryan, and he said, "Yep, that's what she means." I turned back to her and opened my mouth to say no thanks and, you guessed it, she stuck that nugget right in my mouth!

So I had to chew that tough but tasty piece of grilled pig intestine. As I struggled to break it up with my teeth, I said, "Chewy, like gum!" She said, "Hai! Chewing gum!" Then she poured a glass of warm sake and pressed it into my hand. It really helped wash down the 'snack.'

When we left, the guys behind the bar and the customers all told us to come back soon. It seems like a nice little local place, and I think we just may have to become regulars...

I forgot to take any pictures, but this link will show you a collection of photos of other izakayas that might help you imagine ours.