There’s a scene in Lost in Translation where Bob, sitting in a sauna, is initially pleased to see two white people arrive. Hooray! Someone to talk to! His reaction shifts almost immediately when the newcomers begin conversing in German.

This is more or less how it feels here. There are a lot of white people in Kyoto — maybe not numerically more than in Tokyo, but the city is smaller and so you are more likely to run into them. And every time I try to talk to them — every single time — they turn out to be Germans, Norwegians, Finnish, Spanish, or French. Which is OK — I know a few words in each of those languages, and a number of words in two of them — but it’s still very strange. To come halfway around the world and run into a couple from Toulouse who seem overjoyed that someone speaks French (albeit with a wacky faded Quebecois accent).

Now, when other people approach me, they’re pretty sure that I speak English. But not always. I’ve had white people come up to me and ask me something in Japanglish. A pair of Norwegians got in the middle of my shot today in Nara and apologized to me — in Japanese.

You know how you’ve arrived in Japan? When you start orienting and providing advice to other foreigners. In Isetan last night a woman, who was fresh off a flight into KIX, was trying to buy an orange. Isetan (like other department stores with a food floor) has a supermarket section but if you haven’t done a lot of walking around down there it might not be obvious. The orange-stand woman couldn’t figure out what was happening, so I pushed myself into the conversation. “It’s like a supermarket,” I said. “You pick up your food and pay for it over there.” The woman thanked me and asked me how long I’d been here. “About a week,” I said. “On second thought, it’s not like a supermarket. It is a supermarket.”

Speaking of food.. I have discovered the most wonderful form of Japanese cuisine: Kushikatsu. If you can put it on a stick, you can eat it after it has been battered and deep-fried. Oh, wow, is it ever bad for you! I felt my arteries constrict just staring at the menu. Of course, I had to try some. I don’t have a clue what I ate, though I’m pretty sure there was an onion in there somewhere, but it was good.

Went to a fancy tempura restaurant tonight. You think you’ve had tempura in North America — no, you haven’t. This place was a lot more like.. well, it’s like a sushi bar, but for tempura instead of sushi. The stuff was so light, so fluffy, so fresh it just about knocked my socks off. Great fun to sit at the bar and watch the chefs with the big wok full of oil chat it up with Japanese businessmen who are either drunk or getting that way very quickly. My dinner came with a very interesting miso — ako miso, not the usual shiro stuff we’re used to back home. At the bottom of the bowl, a surprise: Tiny clams! Mmm, mmm, good.

The rice is.. different. I don’t know what’s different about it — maybe it’s not as moist as it is at home — but I like it.