Meditations over Bibimba, a Korean dish

Tonight I ate Korean food, in a Korean restaurant near my apartment. I cannot recall what my dish was called but it was served in a hot bowl and remained hot until the end of my meal. It was mainly vegetables on rice, with a raw egg yolk on top that cooked as soon as I started to stir. The old lady at the restaurant told me to stir. She was the only person there who could speak English. It was lovely. I never thought I would call any meal that was primarily vegetarian and super healthy, “wonderful”.

I say this because as I was sitting there on my own I remembered why I wanted to move to Japan again. Writing a list this morning helped remember, yes, but the essence of it all came back to me as I was sitting there. For the first time in a long time I was alone. I wanted to be alone. I am very comfortable being alone, most of the time and sometimes I crave my own company. But I wanted to be alone in a foreign setting, to see how well I can adjust, to see what I would find from it. Not only to learn but to enhance my appreciation of the world around me. To LISTEN, SEE, SMELL, TOUCH, TASTE and FEEL GOD in a completely different setting.  I’ve been in Japan three months now and I haven’t quite been out exploring on my own. I’m always with friends and that is a blessing but somehow that makes me feel less foreign and more like I’m back home. Which is a good thing most of the time, and a good support network to fall back into.

As I sat there eating slowly, I started thinking of how healthy Asian people eat. I looked a people whose culture is hardly influenced by Western standards and admired the persistence of tradition and culture in a predominantly Westernized planet. I sat and thought about the growing obesity back home and my own weight and health issues that have been influenced by so much more than personal choice of diet. I thought of many many things. I listened to the music there. I assume it was Korean music since I was in a Korean restaurant but I’ll never know. It was beautiful, somewhat jazzy and slow. Romantic. It soon changed to opera. Ideal for a Sunday night. My thoughts ran away with me.

Some people stared at me. I could tell they were curious. A black face in a non- tourist restaurant in the middle of a suburb on a Sunday night. Alone. Let me clarify here that Japanese people aren’t particularly race sensitive as a homogenous society but rather all foreigners are just foreigners to them be it black or white. It’s just that since there are so many Americans in the country, especially here in Okinawa, they tend to think all black people are American. If you say you are not American they assume you are Jamaican. It’s rare for Africans to be in Japan. And since there are so many American military bases in Okinawa, most foreigners are expected to be American military, especially the blacks. I, on the other hand am an African English teacher, from Africa. South Africa to be specific.

 The hospitality was amazing, nothing short of Japanese standards. I felt welcome there. Perhaps I should add here that as soon as I walked in I recognised the waitress who no sooner exclaimed: “Sensei!” and went on to tell the owner that I was her English teacher. Besides feeling like I was on show all night, it was a good experience.