ITCHY KNEE? SUN SHE GO!

I was in Tokyo, I was travelling alone and I could only speak five Japanese words, which were the numbers one to five,

Ichi, Nee, San, Shi, Go.
 
With this minor language problem in mind I thought that maybe I would be better off eating alone from room service. However I really wanted to go to a restaurant where the locals ate, away from other tourists. I wanted the ‘real’ thing.

So I plucked up courage and wandered the streets looking for the genuine article.
After passing the rather expensive looking smart restaurants full of tourists I ducked down a side street and into a labyrinth of tiny and darkly lit alleys. I was lost.

I walked down every alley but hadn’t a clue where I was. I wasn’t scared but I was hungry.

It was too late to turn back now so I kept wandering until I discovered a small but interesting looking restaurant. I peered through the window and loved what I saw. No tourists and only Japanese people sitting on cushions on the floor. They were eating food that looked different from anything that I had ever eaten before. I went in. I was politely greeted with a bow from the waiter. I bowed back.

Then the fun started. He looked at me and spoke rapidly in Japanese and I looked blankly back in silence. I pointed at a table to my left trying to imply that I would like the kind of meal that the people sitting there were having. The next thing I knew was that I was ushered to join this innocent group of people who suddenly stopped talking and made a space for the stranger at their table! The waiter had obviously thought that I was joining my friends and my new ‘friends’ were too polite or confused to say anything about the odd looking foreigner barging in on their dinner party.

I was given a space between two very elegant women who bowed. I bowed back and sat down at the same time. Not a wise move, I realised when I practically fell into the middle of the table. They must have thought I was a drunk and decided to humour me.

The waiter asked me if I would like saki. At least I think that is what he said as the word saki was the only one I could grasp. No way am I going to drink saki, I thought, I am having enough trouble sober.  However he kept repeating the word saki to me.

I said “No thank you,” as politely as I could. He continued to insist and obviously wouldn’t take no for an answer and that is when I made the fateful mistake of getting a bit frustrated and said “Go, go!” and waved him away with my hand.

Now I have already mentioned that I was only equipped with the numbers one to five, which is easy to remember if you say it as a little rhyme. Itchy knee sun she go! Ha, ha!

Well the Ha, ha was on me. ‘Go’ means five and I had just said ‘Go’ to the waiter.
The waiter returned a moment later and suddenly there was a stunned silence.  It was a bit like the bar scene of an old western movie, when the bad guy pushes through the swing doors and all the people turn to look and fall silent, including the piano player, knowing a fight is about to ensue. This time, the silence was caused by the sight of the waiter as he proceeded to put not one but five sakis in front of me.

Well there was obviously only one course of action one can possibly take in this rather embarrassing situation.

And so I lifted the first saki and announced in a loud voice “Ichi” and downed it in one.

Eyes smarting I picked up the next glass “Nee”. Struggling but on a run by now I did the same to the other cups. “Sun....She....Go!”.

Not sure what to do next and feeling somewhat ill, I smiled stupidly at my by now incredulous dinner mates. They all stared intensely at the mad binge-drinking foreigner but then suddenly, instead of being thrown out into the street, they all burst out clapping.

One of the men then ordered another round of saki, but not just ‘another’ round, I mean another round of “Go’s”.

Seconds later we all were given five cups of saki each.
I seemed to have started a new craze. We drank each saki with a toast to heaven knows what and within minutes we were best friends.  I’m not sure what they were saying but try to imagine something along the lines of our Aussie drinking mates mantra: “ I love you mate, you’re my best friend ever.” Now try to do it in Japanese and you’ll get the gist.

With a bit of international sign language and the odd use of Itchy knee and so forth we managed to pass a most enjoyable evening. When it came time to leave, they insisted on paying for me and then took me onto a party. Somehow I woke up the next day in my hotel bed but I don’t actually remember how I got back there.

My only problem then was to find out the Japanese words for Nurofen and Berocca.

Back to Bio