Sand and Sand Again

“Sand, sand, sand, still sand, only sand, and sand and sand again…” – from Crossing the Desert, by a British author, whose name completely escapes me now.

The man, obviously, was fed up to the back teeth with sand.

So was I. With Tofu.

The difference, simply, was that while the author in question was infinitely fortunate to be fed up only in the figurative sense, this blogger was not quite so fortunate.

Yeah, to resume where I had last left off, I was checking into this hotel in the middle of nowhere (translation: at the Disneyland Resort, which, by the way, is pretty much in the middle of nowhere) in Tokyo at 2:00 AM California time, when the much-bowing reception-clerk told me that a note had been left that we were all to convene at the lobby, to go to dinner at 7:00 PM Tokyo time, which was to be in an hour.

Now this, after twelve hours and two servings of airline food, seemed like exactly the thing I needed, and with much rejoicing I boarded the Mickey Mouse bus (yeah, even the rear lights and exhaust look like Mickey’s ears and head), which, with the rest of our team, took me to the Ikspiari Mall, where Kenji Nishimura proceeded to guide us to what was promised to be the dinner of a lifetime.

It was.

A seven-course dinner.

A seven-course dinner, where each course, from soup to ice-cream, was made out of tofu.

“Tofu, tofu, tofu, still tofu, only tofu, and tofu and tofu again…”

If you are feeling suicidal, and would like to die slowly, remember to mention tofu in my presence. Guaranteed to work.

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