Tomu and the Man Who Sort of Looked Like My Dad

"Don't overdo it"

After failing to procure a ticket to the Contemporary Art Museum Tokyo (thank you Bank of America) I decided to grab some dinner. I looked up sushi places nearby and found a gaggle of places, all with 3-3.5 star reviews. Lord knows my palate doesn’t know the difference.

I headed to a place close that seemed good. When I “arrived at my destination” all I saw was an apartment building in front of me. After peeking around for a bit with no luck, I decided to head to the another place. When I walked in to the second location (side note: a lot of doors are still really confusing for me here) the two workers behind the counter looked a bit confused at me, spoke some Japanese I couldn’t understand, then said “not open.” My stomach is still on Oklahoma time. Makes sense a place may not be open at 5:45pm.

So then, with my first two places being a bust, I took another shot in the dark at a sushi bar about 14 minutes away.

Clichés are clichés. But three really is a magic number.

I made my way into the restaurant, which google maps calls “Sen Zushi Kiyosumi-Shop” in English, was greeted with the usual “いらっしゃいませ” (Irasshiemase) and sat down in front of the two sushi chefs. The place had a fantastic aura; lots of wood, some gray colors, the bar itself was a long piece of smooth hardwood, modern with traditional flare. I was a fan. I ordered a water and took a look at a menu. Or tried to at least. Two and a half years of college level Japanese, personally, doesn’t quite cover reading a Japanese menu.

While I looked aimlessly as the mostly text-based pages in my hands, I mustered up the confidence to ask for a recommendation. Both at home and abroad, I’m of the belief that most restaurant workers have a better idea of what’s good and not at their restaurant. So, I asked 「おすすめは何ですか？」 (What do you recommend?) The chef in front of me, a man who really could have been anywhere from 35 to 50 years old, asked the older chef, I assume the head chef, what he thought. He recommended something, and though I couldn’t understand what it was he actually recommended, I was trusting the process. I really had no other choice.

Whatever it was I ate, it was tasty. Success. Though, in this process of asking for a recommendation, the chef only made me one roll. So then, I proceeded to ask again for recommendations. The head chef caught on and spoke up a few times while I sat in silence. I ate one roll at a time.

It was around then that Tomu came in.

I, of course, didn’t know his name yet, but Tomu sat in between myself and another man at the end of the bar. He ordered, I kept to myself. Tomu and the other customer, who I began to recognize sort of looked like my dad, if it is at all possibly for a Japanese man to look like the father of a mostly Irish and slightly Greek 21 year old boy from Oklahoma, started conversing. In the midst of my ordering, I got a 「日本語が上手」 (You’re skilled at Japanese) from the younger chef. For those unaware, this is the classic line foreigners get if they speak even a little Japanese. Nonetheless, I appreciated it. I responded partially incorrectly, saying 「日本に行くために留学します。」(Shoulda used くる).

It was then that Tomu asked if I liked sake. I’m a 21 year old college boy Tomu. I’ll go for anything that’s been through the fermentation process.

Tomu called to the server to get another cup so I could have some of his sake. I was grateful. The sake was a little sweet, not too dry like sake I’ve had in the states. No idea how expensive it was, but I was on board.

We started conversing to the best of both of our abilities. Tomu introduced himself as Tomu when I asked. I spoke some Japanese, he spoke some English. My listening comprehension skills are still mighty weak, so while I had trouble understanding a lot of what he said, it was good practice. I was wearing my minecraft rose earrings (thank you Carlie <3) and he asked if getting my ears pierced hurt. 「ちょっとちょっと」(A little, a little). Asked if I had any tattoos. Nope, but I want to get one with my siblings (had to use ChatGPT to help with this response). “I’m the youngest of 32 cousins.” Minds blown. Tomu refilled my sake cup. They thought it was impressive that I’m going to Ritsumeikan University. All a fella could do is blush and mumble「ありがとうございます」(arigatougozaimasu). More sake in my little cup.

Apparently, there’s a relatively known folk dance in Japan called the “Oklahoma Mixer.” When I said where I was from, this was the two men’s first response. The man at the end of the bar thought it was「便利」(convenient) that they knew about Oklahoma from that dance. I tried explaining that Oklahoma is really flat and that we don’t have any good fish there. “I want to eat a lot of fish while I’m here.”

It wasn’t my intention to get Tomu to order me more sushi by saying that, but my lord that’s what happened.

He ordered probably another 8-10 sashimi rolls and other types of sushi for the both of us. They came one by one, each almost tastier than the last (cliché but I’m not exaggerating) (also the sake kept coming so maybe that had something to do with it), and none of which I could identify the type of fish, save that I could tell the egg on the egg roll was egg.

Me being 21 was incredible to them. I’m so young, they said. They weren’t wrong. I was just delighted to have somehow made it into this free-sake-and-sashimi situation. Our conversations continued. I spoke some to the man at the end of the bar. He thought it was funny every time Tomu refilled my cup. He looked up something on Google Translate and came over to show me his phone. “Don’t overdo it,” he said with an accent. This was our new motto. “Don’t overdo it!” I replied.

What a time.

Not too long after, Tomu started collecting his stuff to leave, exchanging formalities to both myself and the other man. I had my film camera with me, and, hoping it wouldn’t be weird, asked「写真を撮ってもいいですか？」(Is it okay if I take a picture of you?). Again, I didn’t want that to be a weird request, I only thought it would be a good documentation of the man who graciously fed me at a random sushi bar in Tokyo. He said something I didn’t understand. It seemed like he meant I could take the picture outside. He payed for his food, including the sake and rolls he bought for me. He headed outside. I paid for mine. Many thanks to the chef.

By the time I got outside, Tomu was gone.

I stood there for a while, in awe of the situation. Really, what are the chances? First night in Tokyo and I get treated to sake and fish unknown to me before then (and still unknown in name to me now). I said “Holy shit. Holy shit.” Then “Holy shit,” a few more times.

Full of rice and fish and a little tipsy, I filled open Apple Maps and walked back to my Airbnb.

---

Have questions or places for me to visit? Leave comments below and I’ll probably most certainly go wherever you say. And, if you feel gracious enough, the subscription button buys me sake. Or dinner. Or lots of 100 yen bottles of water. Depending on where I go.