by Ben Logsdon

I like flowers! I think they are really pretty. Trees are nice too. In fact I think nature is a great thing to have around. My mailbox doesn't get stuffed every month with Green Peace newsletters, but in general I think I am a friend to the environment. As a young impressionable child my mother taught me not to litter. When I was in the Boy Scouts I organized conservation projects and planted trees. I drive a small car that gets great gas mileage and I recycle when it is readily available. As you can see I wouldn't consider myself a foe to environmental concerns, but something happened recently that may have tree-huggers coming at me with salad forks.

Let me set the scene for you...
It was lunchtime at the junior high school where I teach English. I had successfully endured four class periods and was ready to fill my empty stomach with delights from the school kitchen. I collected my tray and joined the 1st grade students for lunch. I placed said tray in front of me and began to play the daily game of Attempt To Identify What It Is I Am About To Eat. Lets see...cabbage, weird slimy clear noodles, tiny dried fish, lovely white rice, miso soup, and...huh?...what do we have here? Sitting on my plate were small cubes of fried meat, cold of course, and very dark, almost black. In fact they looked like they had been cooked, cooled, reheated, recooked and then left out in the sun for a couple days. So there they were, just sitting there looking very unappetizing, these seven pieces of mystery meat.

Now having been blessed with an adventurous spirit, I pride myself in my fervor to try anything once. So, after saying the obligatory "itadighioneonfdoisnf- masu,"^* I began popping the brown cubes into my mouth. Much to my surprise and delight they were quite edible. I thought they might be beef or maybe pork, but definitely not chicken. They were so good in fact that I saved a few for the end of the meal so I could let them be the last taste in my mouth.

After finishing my meal, I still had not identified what I'd just eaten, but this was often the case with my school lunches. As I returned my tray to the kitchen, a very enthusiastic lunch lady greeted me. She struggled her way through a barrage of gestures and indiscernible words in an attempt to explain today's lunch. Arms stretched out wide and repeating the word animal, I gathered that she was telling me I had eaten a big animal. I nodded pleasantly thinking, "yes, a cow is a big animal." I must have still looked confused because she decided to enlist the help of a translator. Having received the message my English teacher turned to me, smiled and said, "This meat is very expensive. It is whale." I was not so much floored by the expensive part, but the whale tidbit left a bitter taste in my mouth.

What had I done? Whale...I had eaten whale, the docile giants of the sea who are protected by international hunting laws. I am confident the whale that I had digested was not a member of the endangered species club, but how am I really to know?

I just happen to live in one of the two countries that allow whaling and consider whale meat to be a delicacy. Unknowingly, I had participated in the slaughter of an animal that is often the poster-child of environmental issues. What does this make me? Am I subject to anti-poaching laws back home? Can I still participate in Arbor Day without being a hypocrite? Now that my lips have glistened from the fat of succulent forbidden meat, will I develop a craving for panda, snow owl, and Siberian tiger? What will become of me?

Before moving to Shimane my meat diet consisted of beef, pork, chicken, and fish, which I thought was quite a variety. But the lunch ladies at my junior high have opened my eyes to a whole new cornucopia of culinary options (some tasty, others not). Most of the time I don't know what is floating in my soup or covered in vinegar on my plate, but since coming to Japan my diet has doubled in the variety of meats and vegetables I eat. Seaweed is a regular visitor to my stomach and octopus makes an appearance every week or so. Last month I discovered I was eating bamboo root three times a week for the last seven months...I didn't even know a person could eat bamboo root.

But this is the game I chose to play. If I wanted to eat pizza and tacos every day for lunch I would have stayed home. So, each day I saddle up to the lunch table and take my chances with the bizarre food gracing my plate. I whisper a small prayer and then start filling my cheeks. I came to Japan to experience a different culture, and so far my stomach has not rejected it.

*Itadakimasu is said before most meals. It means to humbly receive something.