Do I need a bib?

Lunch was at a ramen shop in West Shinjuku. I stumbled upon it when I was tired of the offerings nearer to the Shin-Okubo area.

It may be spring officially in Tokyo but it’s cold and rainy this afternoon. I ordered the regular ramen with soup and rubbed my chilly hands while waiting.

One of the waiters handed me what looked like a big napkin and he gestured to his chest. Bikurishta (What a surprise)! I peered around and I was the only one given this.

I know he was being nice but it’s the kind of situation I would inwardly shake my head in bemusement. Most times, I think I blend in the crowd because of my North Asian looks, but once I speak, it’s obvious I’m not Japanese. Same for today — I am gaijin so I would be perhaps less skillful with slippery ramen and chopsticks. But I’m Chinese, for goodness sake! Or don’t I look it? We know how to use chopsticks and eat noodles without splashing it on ourselves.

The kangaroo always gets given an English menu when we eat out. I don’t think he feels offended but he can read Japanese quite alright. In fact, a bit of sad news, he beat me by eight points in the JLPT test we took last December. I overtook him in the listening and vocabulary sections though.

But after complaining about this double standard treatment, I have to admit I’ve played the foreigner card more than a few times when I get stuck in sticky situations. That’s just the reality here for gaijins.

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