Last night I went to my local izakaya (just two blocks down my street) for the first time. I had no idea what to expect, and it didn’t start out very auspiciously at first, as I almost got knocked over by a couple of drunk old gentleman dancing the rhumba. It didn’t seem that I’d fit in. But just an hour later, I was singing “My Way”, and I ended up talking to this nice old man until 2am. My Japanese wasn’t very good, and his was hard to understand, but I just did a lot of aizuchi (nodding my head, grunting and saying “sou desu ka” a lot) and it was a very nice time. I understood enough to know that his parents were in Nagasaki when the bomb was dropped, and now he’s the only one in his family left in Japan and he’s kind of lonely, as his older sister is in New Jersey and his brother is in Korea. I ended up singing another song and enjoying some typical izakaya food and many beers. What’s more, I was not allowed to pay for any of it, no matter how many times I tried. I think I’ll probably be going to this place a lot. The proprietor is a really nice old lady, and runs a nice little joint.