Got my zaru soba fix today. For the uninitiated: Zaru soba is buckwheat noodles (soba) served on a zaru (bamboo mat). The noodles are served either hot or cold (I like cold) with a cupfull of sauce which one dips the noodles in before slurping them up. After you've eaten the noodles, the hot water which the noodles have cooked in is added to the sauce and you drink that up too. Nothing left. Super simple, yet oh so good. Where will I go for my ramen and soba fixes back home? My onigiri? My yakiniku? My shabu shabu? My takoyaki?

The soba shop is under the tracks, and today was filled with a panoply of characters, all waiting for some Williams play to be set in Japan. Across from me a couple argued as the man drank beer and the woman poured. Next to me a salariman held his head in his hands and slumped on the table in a gesture probably born from exhaustion, but which could have easily been mistaken for one of desperation, heartbreak. And in the corner sat an old man, who with nothing left to eat and less left to do, stared across the room at the other observer in expressionless candor.

A year ago his eyes would have felt heavy, would have dented my skin. But I've lived here long enough to finally not care so much. Lived here long enough to be annoyed instead of amused (or at least as well as). Expectant instead of amazed. I guess in part this is the transition from tourist to resident (though not yet to citizen). Corners filed off, gaps filled in, I'm a better fitting peg now. Just in time to go back to my square hole.