Brazilians know how to eat
Osaka Travel Blog› entry 86 of 93 › view all entries
August 23rd, 2008 – by: skitzcw
My arm started to look like a proper sacrifice for my stomach pains. This odd glaze fell over my eyes as I pictured recipes over everyone’s body parts. People’s names blended into new dishes: Rodrigo soufflé, Mia Tenderloin, Richie Shish kebab.
Needless to say, I had skimped on lunch knowing that dinner would be a feast. I think I ate an onigiri and drank a 1.5 liter of Aquarius to pass the day. I shopped around the area to ease my appetite.
The Brazilian buffet was called “EternA” and it reminded me of the “Master Grill” in Flushing. There’s a normal buffet of mediocre foods, but the main course of meats come from the guys with the large knives and skewers. A little salt-shaker-looking contraption has green painted on one side and red painted on another. Always keep it green. Keep the meats coming! Friends with smaller stomachs should sit around me.
I think the main things I ate that night was red meat and cherry tomatoes. I took pictures pointing to the part of the happy cow I was about to devour. I felt so barbaric, yet the tender cuts relinquished any morsel of guilt. The meat was already killed, butchered, marinated, grilled, and served on my plate in perfectly pink slices. Wouldn’t I be offending the sacrifice by not, at least, enjoying this orgasmic taste to its fullest extent? I think I would have had an erection, but my stomach was too full to maintain the blood flow.
Before you completely stuff your face and fall into a food comatose state, be sure to stay awake and leave room for the best part: Toasted cinnamon pineapple. I didn’t even think it was possible to enjoy something so much when I’m on the verge of breaking my belt buckle. I think it was analogous to seeing baby Jesus with your taste buds. I can’t explain it any better than that. I’m not even going to try. What a good dinner.
~See Lemons Carnivorous
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August 23rd, 2008 – by: skitzcw
There wasn’t a lot of time left and I had so much to relive. I wanted to go everywhere again and retake all those pictures with new and interesting people. What I needed was a time machine, and all I had was a camera and 20GBs of pictures and videos. It would become useful in my recovering days after my trip, but at the time, I knew there were more memories to make. I had revisited Spa World for the pure relaxation and dropped by Den Den town to actually shop around for friends and family. After the waterfall massaged my back and I took a nap in the public lounge, I filtered through the exotic stores in the area.
St. Mark’s Place is exotic to most tourists, right? After walking through it for four years every day, it just seems like any other street covered with sex shops, tattoo parlors, yogurt stores, mangled manikins, and butchered Barney dolls – nothing out of the ordinary. Crazy taxi drivers accelerating through crowds of people and even crazier people trying to cross the street with clear oncoming traffic doesn’t faze me at all. Double-decker tour buses stop to take pictures and wave at us like the entire city is a living zoo, yet I don’t feel offended. It was the same thing with Japan. I stopped looking from the outside in, and the unique flare about the culture was buried in an orthogonal vector (::grin::).
I wanted that part of my brain to switch off. That memory has done me so well, yet it has dimmed the lights and dulled the colors. Why am I not trying to read every single katakana and hiragana character anymore? When did those little things about you stop becoming interesting? It didn’t bother me that people stared at me. I didn’t freak out when people helped me for no reason. The constant inability to fully understand dialogue was just accepted and pushed aside as noise. And worst of all, I started one of the worst habits I could think of in a foreign country: I listened to familiar music. I sat there on the bus like a local and felt the drag of a routine holding me back. It killed one of my major senses and it meant I had been converted.
I spent one of these days completely alone. It rained and I was in a weird mood. This was actually the day I walked around my hotel building like it was a museum. I shuffled in the slippers they provided, and wore a yukata at 3PM like I owned the building and just didn’t give a shyt. Nothing mattered. There was no plan. There was no motivation to make one. There was no ambition to be productive. My camera sat on the desk growling, but I ignored it. My notepad haunted me by appearing in places I don’t remember placing it, yet I stayed away.
I laid there in my large bed wondering about home – missing family and missing friends. When there isn’t a sound in the room my mind is louder than ever. My multi-core unit has pipelining and yet it all makes sense in the end (I hope someone gets it). Memories mixed with predictions mixed with assumptions mixed with conversations mixed with song lyrics mixed with randomness just became a mush in the end. I let the snowball roll and then I made a snowman out of it. Hello, Lime.
~See Lemons search for something in nothing