January 30: Japanese Food

It turns out -- and I am mortified to admit this -- that I don't like Japanese food. I think I have always known this, but have been in denial. I love sushi, but nine times out of ten when I try something else at a Japanese restaurant I don't particularly like it. The problem is I just don't like cooked fish. Or seaweed. They taste, well, like bad ocean smell.

Not liking fish or seaweed is pretty much a deal killer in most traditional restaurants here. These are the flavors that permeate everything. Even when I get a plain noodle soup, or a tofu stew, it starts yummy -- up until that seaweed taste shows up in my mouth.

You don't know how hard it is to wrestle with this self-knowledge. I feel like a failed traveler. I was so proud of eating everything in India -- Look! The American eats spicy food no matter how hot! I have, apparently, bought into some traveler's code that says I have to thoroughly immerse myself in the culture I'm visiting, and to fail to completely absorb some aspect of it means I'm . . . a what? . . . a narrow-minded person, perhaps? Provincial? Rigid?

I am going to free myself from this. I accept that I am an imperfect traveler. I have looked through my Lonely Planet with new eyes, and realize that the book is actually chock full of suggested places for "foreigner hangouts" and "expat bars" and, hallelujah!, western breakfasts. Tomorrow, I'm eating eggs.