Anna Matsushita

  "Just let the tourists gorge themselves on those overpriced Cotswold afternoon teas!"   This scornful remark came from acquaintances of mine who spent mere few years of their youth living in England some thirty years ago. Having also lived in America for much of their early life, they were no stranger to long-term stays abroad. Still, it struck me as peculiar that someone with only a passing connection to tourism could voice such a seemingly authoritative opinion on the subject.   There’s a curious phenomenon among some who have lived overseas for an extended period, especially in their early childhood. A sense of distinction begins to grow—an invisible line separating themselves from mere tourists. For these individuals, their time abroad elevates them in their own eyes to residents or locals, entirely distinct from transient visitors.   Indeed, the longer the stay, the stronger this mentality tends to become. It’s as though time alone confers an unspo...

      Allow me to indulge in a little rambling from my twilight years. It was some forty years ago, on an otherwise ordinary day at school, when I was abruptly asked, “Anna, why did you go upstairs?”   It was in late 1980’s, and at the time, my family had been relocated to London due to my father’s job, and I was attending an international school. The weekend prior, we had ventured to London’s Chinatown for a much-anticipated dinner. The memory still lingers—savouring stir-fried greens, steaming noodle soups, fried rice, and tapioca in coconut milk. Bliss.   On the way to the restaurant, I’d run into a classmate and their friends quite by chance. Later, I learned that they had trailed us, curious about where Japanese families dined. Apparently, the sight of us entering a Chinese restaurant had intrigued them enough to follow us inside.   The restaurant, like many in those days, operated on a system of subtle (or not so subtle) racial disti...

    Nearly 40 years ago, while living in Britain, I was once asked an intriguing question by a Swiss friend:   "Japanese eat raw fish, don't they?"   When I confirmed this, the response was swift and unfiltered: "That's disgusting."   The phrase "raw fish" conjures up visceral, almost grotesque imagery—the notion of biting into a fish, freshly plucked from a stream, scales and all. To clarify, I explained that what we eat in Japan is akin to Italian carpaccio—thinly sliced fresh fish served with soy sauce rather than olive oil and balsamic vinegar. My friend appeared somewhat reassured, if still perplexed, by this cultural culinary nuance.   Curiously, the term "raw fish" persists today in articles about Japan, especially those catering to Western audiences. While such descriptions aim to demystify sashimi, they inadvertently evoke a sense of barbarism, fostering reactions like the one I encountered: "disgusting....

 One winter, my family and I embarked on a journey to the Canary Islands, situated off the coast of North Africa, to celebrate the year-end holidays. These islands, a bit farther south than the Mediterranean, are renowned for their numerous volcanoes. My destination was one of the islands in the archipelago, Lanzarote. It's a Spanish territory where the predominant language is, unsurprisingly, Spanish. Upon landing at the airport and traversing the island by bus, I beheld many curious sights. I noticed peculiar circular enclosures made of stone, with greenery growing in sunken centers. Our guide explained that these were vineyards. The island, formed from volcanic ash, experiences strong winds, making it challenging to cultivate taller crops. Thus, they construct enclosures with rocks to shield against the wind, creating depressions in the center where grapevines thrive. That day, our group of nearly thirty individuals was meticulously led around by our guide, showcasing variou...

 In my early years, I resided in the Tohoku region of Japan. Near the housing complex nestled in the mountains, there was a forest where various fruits grew.   Among them, the mountain grapes held a special fascination for my young heart. Simply put, they looked delicious. Despite being warned by adults never to eat them, they seemed even more tempting.   During that time, I heard a folktale called "Saru-zake" (Monkey's Wine). It narrated a story of a monkey living in the mountains who hid the mountain grapes he had gathered in a tree hollow. Over time, it miraculously turned into wine. A woodcutter who discovered it tasted the wine, found it incredibly delicious, drank too much, and ended up drunk—such was the essence of the story, if I recall correctly.   This wine made from mountain grapes (Vitis coignetiae) is considered one of Japan's oldest alcoholic beverages archaeologically. Its origins can be traced back to the Jomon period, approximately 10,000...

  31st March 2024 marks Easter, a celebration in Christianity commemorating the resurrection of Christ. This widely embraced Christian holiday, now quite prevalent in Japan, is a moveable feast, changing dates each year. Despite the uncertainties of the pandemic, places like Tokyo Disneyland used to host Easter events in pre-COVID times, featuring egg-shaped chocolates and festive treats. The Easter period spans about a month and a half. In Catholic tradition, it kicks off with Shrove Tuesday's Carnival, 41 days before Easter, followed by Ash Wednesday, marking the start of Lent – a period focusing on prayer, fasting, and charitable acts, sharing in the suffering of Christ. During Lent, individuals often undertake acts of kindness or give up indulgences such as sweets. On Shrove Tuesday, known in the UK as "Pancake Day," festivities involve making and flipping pancakes in a unique competition. Towns and villages host pancake-flipping challenges, and some even attempt the ...

  A tale from the distant past unfolds when a colleague from the travel agency bid us farewell, prompting the team to gather for a celebratory meal. Opting for the favorite Spanish cuisine of the departing comrade, our second-year colleagues discovered a delightful eatery nearby in Tokyo.   Run by a Spaniard, the restaurant was conveniently close to the office, and on that day, they had arranged a private room for our group. As we indulged in classic paella and fine wines, the jovial atmosphere escalated, and the affable owner inquired if we desired anything more. It was then that someone exclaimed, "We'd love some sangria!"   The proprietor's momentary hesitation upon hearing this request left me a lasting impression. Returning from the kitchen, the owner presented us with three large pitchers of sangria. Brimming with oranges and other fruits, this chilled concoction was a refreshing delight for our somewhat inebriated selves.   However, the lingering expression of...

It must have been about twenty-five years ago. I had just graduated from university and landed jobs at a small travel agency. The company, which specialised in Europe, Africa, and the Middle East, immersed us thoroughly in the geography, history, tourist attractions, and diverse cuisines of Europe as part of our work. Among our team were those who, during their student days, had embarked on budget travels abroad, boldly exploring various countries. We exchanged experiences, learning from one another, and absorbed knowledge like sponges from our seniors as we navigated our daily routines. At the time, my role involved researching travel ideas for sales by gathering information from overseas branches. Domestically available information required my personal effort to research, compile, and organise. Despite the economic bubble having burst five or six years earlier, Japan still had a thriving appetite for information on luxury cuisine, fine wines, and high-end resorts. In the pre-internet...

Many years ago, during my stay in the UK, I became aware that pubs offered cidre , known as "cider" in English. However, for reasons I didn’t quite understand, my British acquaintances strongly discouraged me from ordering it. They claimed it was not something young people should drink, that it wouldn’t suit Japanese taste buds, and that Japanese people weren’t accustomed to strong alcohol, which they believed cider to be. Their insistence that "it doesn’t suit Japanese palates" left me puzzled. Despite their claimed familiarity with Japan, they seemed determined to dissuade me from trying cider. Looking back, I wonder if they had a negative experience recommending it to a Japanese person in the past and were simply trying to avoid disappointing me. Several decades later, I finally had the opportunity to savour British-made apple cider. A Tokyo-based restaurant featured about eight varieties of cider on its menu. Remembering my earlier encounter in the UK, I was det...

Scotland: The First Encounter with Haggis and Whiskey   On a family trip to Scotland many years ago, we ventured into the crisp embrace of the Scottish Highlands. Despite it being late August, the weather was already chilly, rendering our summer attire woefully inadequate.   Our journey began in Edinburgh, and after some sightseeing, we boarded a train heading towards Inverness, where a newly opened hotel awaited us. Upon our arrival, the hotel manager—a gracious and attentive woman—greeted us warmly. She shared a wealth of information about the hotel's facilities as we settled into our rooms. Keen to shake off the stiffness of the long train journey, we decided to take a refreshing dip in the hotel's pool.   By dinnertime, we were led to the hotel’s restaurant, where a three-course meal awaited. The manager, ever attentive, pointed out that the salad vegetables were freshly harvested that very morning from a nearby farm.   When the main course arrive...