I recently traveled to Singapore after my trip home to Palau. Included in my itinerary's path from Palau to Singapore was a 9 hour layover in Narita International Airport, Japan. This isn't really as bad as it sounds, however. If you've ever transited the airport, you'd know that the airport is almost like a mall, complete with an assortment of (good) food outlets and (good) shopping attractions. I certainly wouldn't be bored.
But, “not being bored” was to fall short of the spirit of this trip! Certainly, I had traveled back to Palau many times, but I had never been to Singapore. I was traveling! Exploring! I had transited Narita many a time, and the 9 hour layover was just enough time for me to look around Tokyo a bit. I hit up an old friend from high school who is Japanese, and she claimed it was possible I could reach Tokyo Tower within that time window if I planned things out. Jen also recommended I visit Tokyo Station, an antique-looking train station in the heart of Tokyo. I mapped out a plan (in my head) and hopped out of the airport onto the subway.
You can see the pics I took of this trip on my instagram. What I will talk about in this post is Real Yaki Soba at Tokyo Station.
Tokyo Station is a major subway hub near the imperial palace in Tokyo. It was finished in 1914 and maintains a western, antique feeling. In fact the building was rumored, according to Wikipedia, to be fashioned after the Amsterdam Centraal station, but there is dispute about this claim. Regardless, the original station is magnificent and lovely, and it featured grandiose domes which were restored in 2009.
Within the station, there are a number of shops and restaurants. I wanted to just look around and take pictures, and save money for Singapore, but my more adventurous side and my churning stomach convinced me to try eat at one of the restaurants. I happened upon a small stall, it looked almost like the sort of place you'd see in an anime or a Japanese travel show; the entrance had some sort of fabric hanging over the doorway so I had to bow down to enter.
An elderly Japanese lady welcomed me in, or I think she did--she only spoke in Japanese. I was lead by gesture to a very short bar, right in front a griddle. She motioned to a wooden chair, the seat for which she opened, in similar fashion to opening a toilet seat. There was a cavity inside. She spoke a few phrases while opening it, and I was perplexed; did she want me to sit inside it? Then, quickly glancing at another bar attendant who was not sitting inside some toilet seat, I realized the compartment was meant for my shoulder bag. Luckily, I reasoned this all quickly enough not to appear as too daft a foreigner, hid my bag and sat on the closed seat.
She then placed a menu in front of me, speaking in what sounded like a polite tone, and guided me through the pages pointing at pictures and the accompanying prices in caption. Towards the end, I saw what looked like Yaki Soba, so I said, “I'll take this.” After declining to have a drink, by a simple, “No” (which she thankfully understood) she took the menu, and left as the cook started my order.
In Japanese food, there are three types of noodles you should know about: Ramen, Soba, and Udon noodles[of course there are more, but these are the main three, at least in my mind]. Ramen should need no explanation, it is so well-known and ubiquitous in its instant form across college dorm rooms. Soba is similar to the non-instant variety of ramen and has what I would call a better texture than ramen (to my preference). Udon, another familiar if you've eaten Japanese food before, is like Soba but is (typically) thicker in size.
Udon (or Udong, as us Palauans like to call it) is usually eaten in soup. Yaki Udon, on the other hand, refers to Udon noodles in a stir-fry. Likewise Yaki Soba is a stir-fry with Soba noodles as a base.
Palau, the home(is)land of my parents, was once a Japanese colony until after the Second World War. Henceforth, my ancestors imported some Japanese culture and some Japanese food. A Palauan style of Udon was adopted as “Udong”, and is still a popular dish for us.
With regards to Yaki Soba, its “instant” version was a staple of my childhood. My parents would make it as a quick meal for us. Just like instant ramen, instant yakisoba had the same quality, or lack thereof, but managed to fill a 5 year-old's stomach. Once I had moved from the US to Palau when I was 8, I was introduced to the Palauan version of Yaki Soba, another Japanese adoption popular on the island. It was usually a heavy stir-fry, with spaghetti noodles substituting actual Soba, chunks of vegetables and half-inch slices of the meat of choice. For pre-teen me, this was “real” Yaki Soba; it had real veggies, real meat, it was real; it was a graduation from the instant yakisoba of my youth to a dish with some level of authenticity in my mid-youth. My Japanese friends would contradict this sentiment, however. There apparently existed “real”-er Japanese food, made by professional Japanese cooks in Japan. It was much better and much more “real” than what the cooks on the island could deliver.
The cook actually wasn't readying my order, but preparing a dish for a previous customer. He then began mine. He placed a handful of fresh soba on the grill with mushrooms and other vegetables mixed in and dashed across liquid seasoning from a vessel with the other hand. I was tempted to snap a few captures, but I didn't want to look any more of a clueless American tourist that I probably already did. After a short moment of waiting which prompted a quick scan through instagram (or twitter, I don't remember), I was called up from my palm and given a plate of Real Yaki Soba.
It was different, and it did taste better. It certainly blew instant yakisoba out of the water, but it surpassed Palau-yakisoba too. Instead of having large chops of add-ons, it had small pieces of chicken, shiitake mushroom, and other small bits. However, the noodles tasted...better. It had a salty and fried texture without the excess oil; it was much more pleasant than Palauan yakisoba. It definitely was real.
I was making my way through the noodles when I overhead a murmur of sorts in Japanese. All of a sudden, the cook's hand tapped the top of my dish. I looked up at him, and he made motions with his hand. First, he twirled them in a circle, then spun them as if leading chopsticks into his mouth. I had no idea, I was eating Yaki Soba wrong! I was eating Yaki Soba wrong?
I made a half-hearted attempt to mimic my cook's motions, but then continued eating how I usually eat with chopsticks, scooping and picking up the small pieces. The cook then disappeared into a kitchen door. In a moment, another older gentleman emerged. He leaned over the griddle and said grinned and said in a low voice,
“Scramble to eat.”
I smiled realizing that they were doing their best to help an ignorant foreigner eat properly. To show my sincerity, I did my best to scramble to eat. I got some of it in a twisted bunch, but by then, I had eaten so many noodles that all the small particulars of mushroom and chicken could not be kept in the mesh of remaining noodles. I continued, trying, twirling and munching, and looked up to catch an upset frown on my host's face. I had clearly failed in my efforts to learn, and after awkwardly giving me a saucer for which I knew not what to do, they gave up and let me pig out in inelegance.
I had learned how to eat with chopsticks when I was a pre-teen, fresh in Palau (Palauans call chopsticks “hassi”, undoubtedly from Japanese “hashi”). In fact, today, I usually prefer chopsticks when eating noodles, sometimes even with non-Asian foods like spaghetti. I took pride in my abilities, I even thought a former girlfriend how to use them! I never had no idea that my skills too weren't “real” chopstick-fu? Apparently, not only had I never had Authentic Yaki Soba, I didn't know how to eat it authentically either!
I quickly finished what was an awkward but fantastic bowl of Japanese noodles, then the elderly lady from before rang me out. Actually, she brought a pocket calculator, typed on it whilst speaking Japanese in that polite tone, and turned the display reading 1404 to my view. At the Airport too, often times the cashier or attendant at this or that stall wouldn't actually use cash register, they'd punch the numbers into a calculator and turn the display to you to see. I had noticed this, but I hitherto had not witnessed this outside Narita. Perhaps this is almost a mini-cultural thing in Japan, it was just the way people ring you out here? It's not like American registers don't have a mini-culture of their own (every coffee shop I've been to uses a tethered IPad of some sort...).
I counted out 1600 Yen (one 1000 Yen bill, a shiny 500 coin, and a 100 yen coin) and placed it the table. I got up, pulled my bag out of the toilet compartment, then made my way out. Just as I had bowed and passed under the portal, I heard another murmur in Japanese from inside the restaurant. The old lady rushed out of from behind me with change and offered it to me with a slip of paper.
I then said, “Oh no! It's a tip!” 200 Yen is close to 14%, so I should have given a little more.
“No, no, no, no, it's okay!”
So, I thanked her and took back the tip. I know that tipping is not usual practice outside of the US (it isn't in Palau), but I still thought she would accept it. Interestingly, she didn't. More interestingly, her expression seemed to tell me that this had happened before. They've had experience with types like me before.
Although, I hadn't experienced this before. I'm no weeabo, as the (derogatory) term goes on the Internet, but I've been a minor fan of Japanese culture for a few years, anime, music and all that. Experiencing it first-hand was surprising, fascinating, and yes, a little awkward. And not only for the noodles.