Innocents Abroad

I'm a firm believer in the fact that the Japanese invented the concept of paying it forward, and last night's activities only confirmed that thought.

There we were, four gaijins, strolling the luminous, candy-colored streets of Osaka, doing our best not to wander into one of the swanky "Snack" Lounges. And by snack lounge, obviously, I mean bars where clients dish out an exorbitant sum to be fawned over by giggly hostesses in outdated prom dresses. We eventually sought refuge in a legit-looking wine bar. A few Rieslings later, we struck up conversation with our amiable waitress--who was not in a prom dress, mind you--asking her if she could recommend a reasonable okonomiyaki joint in the area.

After a couple of thoughtful "mmm's," she disappeared, only to return almost immediately, producing a carefully drawn map, with a detailed depiction of the bar, in relation to the closest train station--tracks and all--and the restaurant she had in mind. I should clarify that it was on the same street, a mere two lights down. She continued to stun us with her helpfulness, as she proceeded to walk us out of the bar, and straight to Miyao, a crowded hole-in-the-wall, where the chefs whipped up tofu steak, kimchi-flavored soba, and of course, sumptuous mounds of okonomiyaki. Over a delicious dinner, among other things, my friends and I marveled at our luck. If it hadn't been for our wine bar waitress, we would have most likely skipped over this hidden gem, and settled for a slice of good old corn pizza instead (hold the corn, thanks). But the food's not the point, really. I'm almost certain that tons of others who have either visited or lived in Japan have a similar anecdote or two. While a succinct "go straight down the block" would have sufficed, we were, instead, carefully hand-delivered to our destination.

One of my friends, Ivan, particularly taken by what had just happened, boldly declared that upon getting home to New York next year, he'd start the practice there. "The next time someone asks me where South Street Sea Port is, I'll say, 'hey, let me take you there'," he announced, chuckling. On first thought, his attempts at inserting a little Japan into the NYC landscape may seem futile. But I'm staying optimistic (and maybe bordering on idealistic, at this point).

Here's to hoping he's serious.