The Ramen Shop in Esashi

Day 32, June 24th:


In Mr Donuts, I got out the map and decided to go round Hokkaido in the opposite way I’d planned. I lost my guidebook somewhere in Oshika, so Sapporo was the only place I could get a new one. It was sunny and about twenty-four degrees. Slid in the earphones and it was Ozzy and the Optimistics on the first track.

Reached the town of Esashi around seven. Found no suitable camping spots apart from a children’s park near a ‘Music Bar’. In the mood for being social and maybe busting out a few dance moves, I went downstairs. I quietly pushed open the door at the bottom of the stairs—crushed velvet seats and a bar lady with a face like a mastiff chewing wasps, watching the news. After the usual pleasantries and a quick check of prices, I left.

One thousand five hundred yen, just to sit down. If everyone in town went there tonight she would’ve made about fifty quid.

Walked past a ramen shop with a funky sign—Jazz, Blues, Music, Rock on a background of treble clefs. I went in… women’s volleyball on the TV in the corner.

A guy with gold front teeth and a silver chain around his shoulders welcomes me in. I sit down.
“Doko kara? Kuni wa?
“Wales.”
“Oh. England?”
“No. It’s like this…”
A customer joined in.
“England ne.”
“So. Itte koto ga arimasu ka (have you been?)” I asked.
“Nai.” Then a slur of something incomprehensible—even to the owner—before he boomed with laughter. He was absolutely caned on sake.
We shook hands.
“Leigh. Hajimemashite (nice to meet you).”
“Sugoi. Nihongo jozu (good Japanese). Tencho! (owner) Nihongo jozu!”
“No, no, no. Hidoi (terrible).”
“Anata wa? Namae wa? (And you what’s your name?)”
“Hiromitsu. Hajimemashite.”
We all gave a big ‘cheers’ and slugged back the beer.

A few moments later, Hiromitsu leant over like he had a secret to tell me.
“Americajin ne,”he said quietly, “Americajin,” then pointed at his crotch.
“Sugoi ne (surprising) Suuuuuuuuggeee!” as he exploded into hysterics.
The owner’s wife came into the room.
“Yoko-san! Yoko-san! Americajin! Suuuuggoi ne. Oki (big) ne. Sugoi oki! wooaaahhaahahahah!” he gestured as though he was pulling out a roll of carpet from between his legs. She smiled with some embarrassment.

I finished my second beer and got up to leave. Hiromitsu offered me a cup of sake for the road. I politely refused and left them to it. I started talking to myself as I was about to unlock Babe.
“What are you doing? It’s only eight thirty. Get back in there.”
I put the key in my pocket and opened the door. They all laughed. Hiromitsu put a cup in my hand and filled it to the brim.
“Kampai!”
The owner gave me a bottle of sake and a plate of grilled fish. His few customers filled my cup whenever I put it down on the bar. We poured for each other all night. A bottle and a half of cold sake and five beers later, I thought it best to go home.
“Arigato. Tomodachi (friend).” I said to Hiromitsu.
He laughed, grabbed the back of my neck and shook my hand.
I started pointing at everyone individually, “Tomodachi!”
I tried to pay. The master just shook my hand. I bowed.
“Arigato gozaimashita.”

I left like an old man trying to stand up on a lilo.

Got on the bike, barely able to see, and headed for the coast. Plonked myself outside a shop and lay down. Well and truly hammered, I picked myself up and headed back up to the tiny park. Staggered over to the bench by the toilets, rolled out the sleeping bag, clambered into it and lay there like a pissed fajita.