Something smells fishy

The world is round or how Amy made a friend

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I left my bike at the school parking lot and Miyu drove us to a small cafe on the outskirts of the city. It was small, family owned I assumed.

Definitely not Starbucks, I thought to myself upon entering a small, tile roofed building that looked like it belonged in a Hansel and Gretel fairy tale . It was summer, but there were Christmas lights on the two trees guarding the entrance.

It was cool inside, not too cold, not like the other places I have been to. People in Japan had a thing for taking the temperatures down to freezing point in all public spaces during summer. One needed a blanket upon entering a building.

This place smelled of fresh baked goodies and flowers. A couple of tables adorned with crisp white tablecloths and small vases with fresh flowers were scattered around leaving plenty of space for movement and even dancing if one so wished.  A small counter filled to the brim with baskets with different breads and pastries occupied one of the corners. The place smelled divine, fresh baked cookies were left on the counter to cool off right next to a tray with bunny shaped bread.

There was a hint of lavender in the air. I unconsciously followed the smell until I spotted a little bouquet of lavender on one of the tables, the one by the big window in the corner.

The best seat by far, I thought to myself and headed toward it.

As I threw my backpack onto one of the chairs, the loud thud made a lady show her face from under the counter.

Miyu followed silently and graciously set her black satchel in the weaved basket next to the table. We still haven't talked really. We exchanged a couple of phrases about the weather on our way here but the drive did seem excruciatingly long in lack of common topics.

'So, it's your birthday today?'
"Yes," she nodded.
"Are you of legal age now?" I giggled at my own joke.

'Eto, twenty nine. I am twenty nine today. Almost thirty,' she answered. She didn't giggle back.

There it was again, the eto word. It was a word I heard frequently at school with students and teachers alike. I was sure of one thing now, it wasn't a curse, for Miyu didn't seem the type to curse.

" You're older than me? No way! You look sixteen at best," I countered.

Now she giggled. Miyu smiled at me so warmly. I think it was the first time she really smiled, sincerely.

She seemed relaxed now, tilting her head slightly as if waiting for me to say something and I was about to when a lady, seemingly around fifty, approached our table with two glasses of ice water.

It is accustomed to receive water upon entering a cafe or a restaurant in Japan. Service or seruvisu I believe they call it. It was a very nice touch of Japanese hospitality, along with the complementary pickles served with dishes o wet towels and  the servers who made sure to never take an order while towering over the customers. Quite often servers would lower themselves to their knees, something I found quite startling in the beginning.

The lady had also brought the menu and offered it to us. My throat felt dry from all the tension and I took a sip of water. I spotted a thin wedge of lemon and a few leaves of mint crushed under the cubes of ice. While the water was free in Japan, I have never had it served with mint, for one because it was an expensive treat as all herbs are.

'Okaeri! ' the lady said to Myiu, a phrase one says upon welcoming somebody home.

'Tadaima, ' she answered and her face expression shifted once again. It was like I have not known this girl for the past two months. Her eyes alit, she was picking at the lady's apron trying to straighten it out.

'Amy sensei, this is my mother - Michiko san.'

'Okasan, this is my colleague - Amy sensei.'

I rushed to stand up and almost took the whole table with me in the process. I bowed just as I learned, hands crossed in front of me, my back at forty five degrees, inhale, back straight, butt in, legs together. As I was recalling all the steps to a proper greeting, I let out a relieved Yoroshiku onegaishimasu, nice to meet you, and finally heard myself exhale.

The memory of my first bow flashed in front of my eyes. It was in the principal's office. He, a man in his sixties, not speaking any English, and me standing in front of him like a school girl waiting to get detention and a sermon. I bowed my head, more like tilted it a little, hands at my sides, no grace whatsoever . Now, I realise just how lousy it was and why Mr. Ishi wasn't impressed with it. I guess he felt compelled to welcome me in a way I was comfortable, the western way, so he approached me, and lifted my hand in a handshake. Having your palms at your seems was the way men bowed, it was rude of me to do it. I didn't know better at the time and Mr. Ishi did not consider it proper to introduce me into the arts of japanese bowing.

This time I was careful to do it right and leave a good impression. Miyu's mom bowed in return. After exchanging pleasantries to the best of my ability, I allowed myself to relax and settled back into my chair.

Not bad, Amy. Not bad at all. You're definitely making progress, I mentally high-fived myself.