”Gomen ne gani” (Sorry crab!)

These were the words of a student as she one-by-one snapped the legs off an orange, Echizen crab. I watched with morbid curiosity as the crustacean was pulled, picked and broken to pieces before every part of it was eaten and only the shell and legs were left, licked clean of course. 

Every year the san nen-seis are taught how to eat the famous Echizen crab and today I got to join in with the fishy commotion. To my surprise the lunch room was not only filled with eager students and some expert crab openers, but also a camera crew who were making some sort of film of the event. Knowing I stand out in a room full of Japanese people, I subtly sat myself next to some friendly girls at the back of the room and tried to avoid the camera crew gaze. It worked; temporarily!

For some of the students it was their first time to eat Echizen crab, which is unusual as Echizen is famous nationwide for it’s delicious crab. I admit to have even visited the eccentric Echizen crab museum, sign posted with one of many giant plastic crabs which cling on to crab restaurants, fishmongers and this museum along the Echizen coastline. At the museum I learnt a little about the fishermen whose lives have been reliant on these orange crustaceans for hundreds of years and can now make a good living off these small but expensive seafood. The crabs are called Snow Crab here, probably due to the fact they are only caught in the winter months. The crabs we were dissecting at school came fresh from the port at Mikuni, and were raw as they could be. A yellow tag was tied to a crab’s leg to testify that it was from Echizen, the most sought-after type of crab in Japan. In fact it is the only type of crab presented to the Imperial Family every year!

These Echizen crabs are sold as that equivalent of £66 each!

So this is how to get in to an Echizen crab:

Step 1. Turn the crab upside down.

Step 2. Pull down it’s underside and scoop out all the red eggs (and there’s a lot of them!)

Step 3. Time to get your muscles in action: take both sets of legs and squeeze them together so they break off the crab’s body. Now you can literally see all of the crab’s innards (a mess of orange, green and white mush to an untrained eye like mine!)

Step 5. Break each leg at one end, then use a smaller leg to push the white crab meat through the outer case. If you’re lucky you will get one mouthful of meat per leg!

As soon as I left the safety of my back-row seat the camera crew were on to me and before I knew it I had a white light shining in my face and three men holding various instruments looking expectantly at me. The presenter was a man dressed in a pink yukata, and had a girl no more than ten as his cute side kick for the show. He asked me in Japanese if had I eaten the crab. I gestured that I hadn’t but found the word ‘Tabetai’ (I want to eat!) which made the presenters very excited! So a crab’s body with its meat piled on it was given to me. Choosing the least disgusting piece I could, I cautiously put it into my mouth. It was different from the usual crab meat I’d eaten from a tin in England, and a world away from the ‘crab’ sticks I love in sushi, and the texture was a lot chewier than I’d expected. But when I could politely answer, I said ‘Oishii desu’, meaning delicious, and everyone cheered! The spotlight turned to someone else. Phew!

So how did it really taste? Well like most delicacies, it was an acquired taste. The crunchy eggs got stuck in my teeth, the white meat was more bitter than I’d had before and the gooey orange and green insides were edible but looked disgusting!

Despite the crab’s reputation, some students couldn’t stomach eating the rather disgusting looking creature, so they wanted me to eat theirs for them. I tried my best but could only stomach a couple more mouthfuls. My colleagues were surprised at me as they adored the stuff and would eat it everyday if they could! Another culinary difference comes to light.

Mihama, Katsuyama and the best cafes along the way

Friday

Sophie: Hey, where should we go this weekend?

Zoya: Err, I don’t know. But whatever we do, I want a lie in and then good coffee.

Sophie: Ok, let’s go to Mihama.

Zoya: Ok, ikimashoo!

This is how an empty weekend turns into one full of adventures in Fukui-ken.  Last weekend was especially reminiscent of our travelling relationship.

Saturday

I pull up outside Zoya’s apartment at the compromised time of 10am.  She runs out with her coffee flask in hand.  ‘Can we stop at a bakery? I need breakfast’.  Two cheese buns later and we are both happy.

We whizz south to Tsuruga.  We see three surfers bobbing on a non-existent swell but having a good time nonetheless.  We drive past what I think is the ugliest city in Fukui, known only for its nuclear power stations which blight the area but are photo-shopped out of tourist brochures.  We bypass the Nuclear Power Information Centre which, I can can imagine could be really interesting about a very serious topic and there  no doubt will be cute rabbits signalling why nuclear power is best for the country.  Japan can turn anything, however boring into something cute and fun, such as the traffic cones here which are in the shape of frogs, rabbits or tigers!

Mikuni Rainbow Line is signalled and we take the 1000 yen toll road.  It is a small price to pay for the scenic drive around lakes and to a view point where you can see five different lakes of varying colours.  On this cloudy day they all looked the same to me, but what was impressive were the steep sea cliffs and black sand beaches which looked impossible to reach.  At the familiar tourist café and souvenir shop a man asked us the usual questions of ‘Where are you from?’ and ‘Do you work here?’.  I learnt the hard way to be careful of every syllable, as I accidently told him I was a film (eiga) teacher not an English (eigo) teacher!  I quickly corrected my mistake this time but I’m sure I make similar mistakes everyday and don’t realise it!ImageAfter a lakeside coffee, I took Zoya’s direction to drive around a coastal peninsular which was not on the tourist map.  Willingly, I took the 15 km winding road around the rocky hillside.  Within five minutes of the route I saw a dog on a roof of a traditional house.  ‘What is a dog doing on the roof!’ I thought to myself, before I realised that it was a monkey!  Along this road we came across a whole troop of monkeys in the trees above us and sitting by the roadside.  We pulled up and watched in awe at wildlife I’d only ever seen that close in a zoo.

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Whilst we were watching as the young monkeys played in the trees, my eye caught sight of a bigger creature moving in the forest.  It was a full grown shika stag peering through the trees at us.  We could only see its neck as it was such a steep-sided hillside and I was almost worried it may fall on us. It had a dark, shaggy coat and full length antlers.  This you’ll have to believe, as when I reached for my camera it turned sharply and went back in to the dense forest.  This rare glimpse of the abundance of wildlife in the forests here just adds to the sharp division of built up cities bordered by thickly covered mountains where humans do not venture.  Miyazaki films, such as Princess Mononoko offer a magical portrayal of of animals in the forests being like spirits.

After this excitement we continued driving to the end of Tsunegami peninsular.  We passed fishing villages where freshly caught squid and fish were hanging from clothes, pegs guarded by a small o-baachan (grandmothers) sat outside their houses.  We’d hear the term ‘gaijin’ being said with surprise as they see our long noses, light hair and Zoya’s blue eyes.  Yet the fishermen were too engrossed in their catch to notice us though.

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For lunch, Zoya had found a secluded cafe in the coffee-bible of Fukui-ken magazine.  We worked out the location and headed south to find the little know café which promised us stone-cooked pizza.  When we arrived it was too late for pizza but the five retired ladies which ran the rustic café cooked us up the lunchi setto for a mere 500 yen.  The ladies were dressed in beautiful tie dye aprons and were curious about our whereabouts.  They’d seen the Fukui-ken number plate on my car and asked us where we lived and what we did.  This time I told them straight my job and they praised my broken Japanese as jouzo, even though I can hardly string a sentence together!

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We left, fed and fulfilled and headed back home.

Sunday

I was eager not to waste a single day of the beautiful season which is autumn.  I woke to a sunny morning and for the first time saw snow-capped mountains far in the distance.  ‘Zoya, let’s go somewhere!’.  ‘Oki’ her message read and we packed our bags ready for another road trip.  ‘I need breakfast and coffee this morning,’ said Zoya as she climbed in the front seat.  Now if Zoya hadn’t had her morning coffee, this was a more pressing issue!  So out comes the coffee-bible and low-and-behold she finds a Scandinavian bakery on the way we are headed!  I couldn’t believe there would be such a thing in our prefectural city, but there was and we enjoyed cheesecake, coffee and Scandinavian décor for breakfast.

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Then, we were back on-route to the Dinosaur Museum in Katsuyama. It was built 10 years ago, after many dinosaur fossils had been found there,  and it was designed in the shape of a dinosaur egg, so it is easily visible from afar.  For 500 yen we enjoyed giant robotic t-rexs and walking-with-dinosaurs type graphics.  Less exciting, but still fascinating, were exhibitions of nearly complete dinosaur fossils from Japan, China and America.  When you walk out of the egg-shaped building into the fresh air and see the surrounding mountains, it is easy to imagine that dinosaurs roamed this area millions of years ago.

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Our next stop was Echizen daibutsu or ‘giant Buddha’. The 17 meter high Buddha is the tallest in Japan and is an impressive man-made feat.  But from what I know about Buddhism is not about being in awe of a massive statue so I’m not entirely sure if it’s main purpose was to inspire worshippers or something else.  I read that the Buddha was built twenty years ago from money given by a rich businessman who wanted to be thankful of his fortune in business.  However grand new places of worship are, they can never make up for the slowly moulded and worn down floors of old temples, churches or mosques.  Compared to the nearby Eiheji temple where Zen Buddhist monks still live a life of silence and solitude, this place was an amusement ground. Yet still the surrounding area was inspiring and the five-story pagoda gave a great view of the valley.

The valley of Katsuyama was one of the most beautiful places I had ever been.  The sky was blue, the leaves of the trees were golden in the sunlight and the mountains in the distance looked a deep mahogany colour.  There were no sounds apart from children laughing whilst feeding koi fish in the pond.  It was then that I realised that Japan is going to change me.  I know that compared to the simply beauty of the leaves changing colour here and a thousand other differences, other places will seem dull and boring.  It was then that I decided that I’ll stay in Japan for another year.

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