What Far-East journey would be complete without Transvestite Bowling? Prolly ours. But we pressed on anyway. And in the spirit of foreshadowing, I promise never to “drop a bomb” again without forewarning. Now, pull my finger.
Join us as we round out our tour in the infamous southwestern city of Nagasaki. A memory that has now been deeply engraved into my mind’s black eye.
First, my diet. I was right. It got worse.
Before.
Two things to point out on this one. 1) The tail was still moving, and 2) the fish head. Also, the fish head was still attached to its fish body. You may notice the fish tail hanging out over the far edge of the plate. You may also notice the fish meat professionally cut and neatly presented atop the fish body.
After.
This was funny. And I apologize as I could never replay the events that led up to the moments prior to this photograph. But imagine our Japanese host saying, “I dunno. My English no good. I dunno how you say. . .”
It`s at this point I take a bite.
During.
Followed by our local host extending out his hands, palms up, fingers together, slightly bent, as if to be holding two water balloons. “You know. Male. . .I dunno how you say. . .” rotation of the hands, palms outwards, “You know. Female. . .things. . .but male.”
In the end, we understood this dish to be Male Fish Golden Balls.
And being the man that I am, I succumbed to peer pressure and reluctantly finish my Male Fish Golden Balls. The batter was light, like tempura. If that was indeed batter. But the texture of the genitalia part was rather mushy. Like I imagine any aquatic-borne testicles to be.
And then there was dessert. A delicacy. Crab brain. Pate-like. Only with a higher chance of it being a slow learner.
We learned that the girlfriend phrase, “Did you just drop a bomb?” a metaphor for, “Did you just fart?” doesn’t translate well over here. For lack of a better transition, we’d still like to share with you our visit to the Atomic Bomb Museum. An experience in which I still have yet to find the words for.
Children singing in Peace Park.
Prayer at the Hypocenter.
Hypocenter.
Photo taken after the bomb exploded.
Join us as we round out our tour in the infamous southwestern city of Nagasaki. A memory that has now been deeply engraved into my mind’s black eye.
First, my diet. I was right. It got worse.
Before.
Two things to point out on this one. 1) The tail was still moving, and 2) the fish head. Also, the fish head was still attached to its fish body. You may notice the fish tail hanging out over the far edge of the plate. You may also notice the fish meat professionally cut and neatly presented atop the fish body.
After.
This was funny. And I apologize as I could never replay the events that led up to the moments prior to this photograph. But imagine our Japanese host saying, “I dunno. My English no good. I dunno how you say. . .”
It`s at this point I take a bite.
During.
Followed by our local host extending out his hands, palms up, fingers together, slightly bent, as if to be holding two water balloons. “You know. Male. . .I dunno how you say. . .” rotation of the hands, palms outwards, “You know. Female. . .things. . .but male.”
In the end, we understood this dish to be Male Fish Golden Balls.
And being the man that I am, I succumbed to peer pressure and reluctantly finish my Male Fish Golden Balls. The batter was light, like tempura. If that was indeed batter. But the texture of the genitalia part was rather mushy. Like I imagine any aquatic-borne testicles to be.
And then there was dessert. A delicacy. Crab brain. Pate-like. Only with a higher chance of it being a slow learner.
We learned that the girlfriend phrase, “Did you just drop a bomb?” a metaphor for, “Did you just fart?” doesn’t translate well over here. For lack of a better transition, we’d still like to share with you our visit to the Atomic Bomb Museum. An experience in which I still have yet to find the words for.
Children singing in Peace Park.
Prayer at the Hypocenter.
Hypocenter.
Photo taken after the bomb exploded.
