It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon in early fall, so much so that Noriko and I had decided to go to one of Santa Fe’s endless seasonal street festivals. Noriko was highly motivated to take in some of the local “culture” in the form of the local food street vendors. But by the time we got down to the plaza it was too late; thundershowers threatened, and the vendors had begun to tear down. Yet Noriko was unperturbed. “When it come to food, I always have Plan B”, she declared. “Round the corner is gourmet pizza joint!” So we proceeded to “Rooftop Pizza”, arriving just as the summer thunderstorm rolled in.
Once seated we surveyed the menu. “Dis menu a bit pretentious”, Noriko whispered, “with all sort of fancy vegetarian extra – ar’choke, pinenut, spinach, blah, blah. Pizza simply vulguh food, so why pretend? Pizza should be cheesy and straightforward indulgent; odduhwise, why bodduh?” I had no quarrels with her philosophy, so we ordered cheap and old-school – lots of cheese and pepperoni. We also got some wine.
“You used to be a drinker in your youth, no?” I asked.
“Yes,” Noriko said. “I was buhbon drinkuh. I loved buhbon. I say ‘give me Jack Daniel, onduhrock…’”
“Do you guys really say ‘on the rocks’? I asked because I knew from previous discussions how many phrases the Japanese borrow from English.
“Yes, of course. We say ‘onduhrock’”.
“Do you drop the plural like that?
“What plural?”
“Rock-S, honey”, I clarified.
Noriko shrugged. “We say ‘onduhrock….’
The pizza came, and it was indeed self-indulgent and cheesy. We dug in. About half way into it Noriko’s face began to sweat profusely. “See, I sweat. From spice. We Japanese not equipped for westuhn spice.”
“What spices?” I asked sincerely.
“You don’t know? Dehr chili or someting in pizza sauce.” I had no idea what she was talking about, but she was sweating and everything in Santa Fe has chili in it, so I figured that she knew. And in any case, I was stuffed. “Uh, now I see why I don’t eat pizza. Too much for me,” I said.
“Now time for dessuht…” Noriko said, eyeballing the menu as she continued to labor at the remaining pizza.
“Dessert? You can’t be serious – I’m full!” I protested.
“In Japan we say dat we have second stomach for dessuht,” Noriko replied, continuing to scan the dessert menu.
“I am curious, honey – given what a little thing you are, you certainly are a food lover. Have you always been so, uh, single-minded when it comes to eating?” I inquired.
“Oh yes”, she indicated, mouth too full to talk. Finally she spat out “Back to womb!”
“Huh?”
“Dat right. Muddah say, when she pregant with me, she could tell what I want because it not what she normally like. (And not what she like when pregnant with olduh sistuh.) When she get dis particulah Chinese food, muddah say, ” Baby Noriko want dis and won’t be satisfied until!”
Incredulously, I said “So you mean to say that this unyielding fixation on food goes back to before your birth?”
“Of COURSE!” she managed to get out, her cheeks puffed up like a squirrel. Her eyes were momentarily vacant, her attention fully consumed by the act of chewing her pizza. Then, as she swallowed Noriko said “Where waituh? I want chocolate pie!”
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tagged: funny, humor, inter-cultural relationships, japanese culture, NM, romance, santa fe
