I ate raw chicken and lived

I'm watching two teachers converse, one on either side of the staffroom doorway. They do this at leisure, even as other staff enter and exit with regularity. Indeed, rather than move to a more stand-and-talk-friendly location so that passers-by do not create momentary obstructions to their chatter, the two who are talking remain right where they are, and the prerogative is on the passer-by to bow low, say 'sumimasen' (excuse me), and crawl their way between them with all the humility they can possibly exude.

Personally I find this odd. The doorway and its passage cannot be moved, but the teachers can. It only makes sense for them to talk somewhere less compromising.

Don't get me wrong; I'm not complaining; the system works. In New Zealand you move to a place where it makes sense to talk. In Japan, you don't. It's fine. But it's interesting.

Here's a platter of raw chicken served at a restaurant. I'll get to this in a bit!

Oh, and look; one of the JTEs (Japanese teachers of English) has just demonstrated, with unrivalled humility, the above prerogative on her return entry into the room. After passing, reverting, straightening, and exhaling, she has noticed my less-than-subtle observation of the whole affair and has laughed, perhaps to acknowledge that this custom is indeed odd, but that, well, it is how it is: "shoganai", which is slang for "it can't be helped". Or perhaps she was picturing me in her shoes, trying to arch and crawl just so, then realising that I'm so tall I should really just jump.

Bowing is so ingrained that people even do so when they're on the phone. Not all of them, but I've identified who are the phone call bowers; as it turns out, more than a few!

I may not bow on the phone, but I certainly find myself doing so at all hours without my willing it. Bowing and the affirmative word 'hai' are twins that accompany me to every conversation. They're an obnoxious pair.

And finally, for otherwise the title of this post will have to be changed, I ate raw chicken. Raw chicken! And lived. It's quite edible here, apparently, including the waddle (plume thing on roosters' heads) and gizzard (digestive tra-- let's just call it the stomach, even though that isn't much better). Anyway, I ate them all - raw! I've thus learned that it is in fact possible to eat 'chicken sashimi' (single quote marks because I'm still a little bit sceptical) safely if the chicken is super fresh and super unhandled. It's also super chewy (and the waddle could scarcely be chewed at all), and I felt super primitive eating it. But in conclusion, it tasted fine - not rich or soapy (for some reason I imagined raw chicken tasting like soap) - and did not result in my stomach doing turns throughout the night.

But this doesn't mean that it was good. Like the sliver of fugu (puffer fish) I'd had the week before, it's a novelty. I probably won't have it again.