Fishy vegetarians

Three years ago I agreed to a twelve- month teaching contract in a small fishing village nestled deep in the Japanese countryside, a rare gem in a grossly overpopulated country. Adventurous it was, but being a vegetarian, I came to loathe the daily discomforts and awkwardness of living in an omnivorous society where fundamental notions of vegetarianism elude the average citizen.

When I arrived in my rural Japanese village, I was low on cash, but a quick scan of the instant food aisle at the local supermarket was enough to turn my stomach. The painful wait for payday was going to involve an educational lesson in Japanese food vocabulary. After studying the appropriate characters and terminology, I could successfully deconstruct an entire ingredients label in just less than two minutes. Invigorated by this new tool I headed back to the store. I spent over three hours checking every single food label, ending up with nothing. Every broth was fish-based, every noodle dish contained animal parts, even foreign dishes like spaghetti or Thai curry had been infused with chicken fat, bits of beef or pork, or gelatin. Sneaky.

Surviving on a basic diet of rice and seaweed, adding safe choices like nuts and chocolate, I was getting by. Financial strain made fresh fruit and vegetables an impossibility, and even rice was getting too pricey. It seemed that the healthier something was, the more expensive it became. An apple could cost the price of a whole week of instant noodle meals. Losing heaps of weight weekly, the friends I had begun to make grew concerned. Armed with my first pay cheque and an invitation to a drinking party at the local pub, I headed out for my first restaurant adventure. What a disaster!

Beer and cocktails helped the first hour fly by, but soon enough everyone grew hungry. I scanned the menu for vegetarian choices: Zero. Convinced I had misunderstood something, I innocently threw out the question "any vegetarians here?" I might as well have asked if there were any aliens in our group. An explanation was required, and after my Japanese companions had recovered from their initial shock they began inundating me with questions. I had suddenly become a novelty, and successfully achieved alienation from the group.

I had not been incorrect, there were no vegetarian choices on the menu and there was not a single person in that entire village that shared my views. All of the pizzas did in fact have ground beef, all the salads were indeed served with fish flakes, and every pasta dish was actually smeared with cod roe or caviar. Although I knew a simple request or explanation probably wouldn't work this time, I decided to try anyways.

I pulled the waiter aside and told him what my Japanese textbook had taught me to say in these situations 'excuse me, do you have any vegetarian food'? This elicited loud laughter; apparently I had used the Japanese term for temple vegetarian food (literally 'devotional food'). The new modern term 'bejatarian' (phonetically transposed from the English) was the more appropriate phrase, though clearly misunderstood by the general public. It seemed my faux pas was to define my 'reputation' for the remainder of my two-year stay. It was not uncommon to meet a new person in the town, tell them my name, see instant recognition in their eyes, and be asked 'are you the vegetarian?

One would think I'd meet other foreign people in the same predicament. I did in fact meet some people who shared my views, but who had given up vegetarianism after moving to Japan. It was just too difficult to maintain. Cooking at home was out of the question, unless I planned to eat dinner at midnight and get up at the crack of dawn to prepare boxed lunches.

I couldn't trust the prepared food in the supermarket. On more than one occasion I had read the ingredients of a seemingly innocent rice ball, ensured its safety, then taken a bite into raw salmon or ground-up sardines. I also had little faith in restaurants, often ending up with what I specifically did not order. Salads seemed the safest thing, but I still had to explain to the waiter that I would pass on the fish flake topping and grilled bacon bits. More often than not, the salad arrived fully equipped with bonito and pork. Complaints fell on deaf ears and battles with the staff were futile, they didn't seem to be able to change the standard menu.

One thing was clear to me, if I were to remain in this country I would have to loosen my morals. After one year, I found myself making concessions. I would grudgingly eat the vegetables that had been dangerously intimate with meat and had no choice but to buy the salad dressing with a chicken bouillon base (there were no others). I found myself feeling depressed and disgusted with myself. I had to move to a bigger city, or risk my health, both mental and physical.

I found some relief in Osaka's ethnic restaurants. Although the menus catered to a Japanese clientele, a chat with the cook or waiter would sort everything out. Ethnic food being as expensive as it was, I was having trouble justifying such extravagant meals every night. I began to space out trips to restaurants for big vegetarian feasts of spinach curry, pad Thai, bean burritos and subsisted on bakery goods during the intervals between. I was careful to read each bread label carefully and inquire about the ingredients, baffling cashiers and kitchen assistants. Even some of the bakers couldn't recall if they had slid a few chunks of ham in the batter.

Still dissatisfied, I headed to Tokyo, the absolute last resort. I visited some organic food stores, and found at least one restaurant that serves purely vegetarian food, albeit light, bland and outrageously priced. I know for a fact that meat-free food can be delicious and rich.

On the rare occasion I am asked to dinner by Japanese friends (most aren't willing to brave the assignment), I get nervous. Anxious to impress foreigners, new and scary-looking foods are dished up. On one occasion, I was fed meat disguised in a plate of fried noodles just to see if I could detect the taste of flesh. My companions had actually placed bets on it. Since the old-fashioned idea of abstaining from meat for devotional purposes still sticks in rural Japan, my friends believed that my duty was to detect the meat and remove it before I could enjoy the pleasures of flesh. They couldn't understand that I actually felt disgusted by the taste of meat, and violated by their sneaky act.

Traditional Buddhist vegetarian set. (Shojin-ryori)

In a nation with dietary roots steeped in vegetarianism, I had anticipated a whole new world of culinary adventures in Japan. Instead I discovered a firmly established meat-eating culture. Heavily influenced by state-enforced Buddhist principles, the Japanese were forced to abstain from the consumption of meat and fish and survive on vegetables, grains, and protein-rich tofu for 1200 years before the acceptance of meat in 1867.

What caused this modern denial of the traditional cuisine? After meat was legalized the Meiji elite, the only group who had access to western cuisine and culture, enjoyed it. The years of the Second World War saw a great scarcity of meat, and a reversion to the conventional diet. Post-war years were tough and delicacies were unavailable to most of the general public. The influence of the American occupation, followed by a great boom in the economy (the bubble years) in the 1970s and 80s, created an insatiable appetite for animal flesh.

Things like katsu (fried pork cutlet) and gyudon (beef bowl) surfaced during this time of intentional westernization. The image of meat had become associated with foreignness, affluence, health and happiness. Now as the economy flutters, the Japanese must find their meat in the fast food joints popping up all over the country.

Seeking answers, I brought my query to a Buddhist monk. Although he underwent the years of rigorous training living in an isolated temple and following the dietary rules of no meat, fish, garlic, onions, or alcohol, he still could not identify with the moral issues at the heart of western vegetarianism. He claimed that monks are just regular people who want to eat meat too. He placed no value in the out-dated Buddhist ideals, and perceived the current eating habits as a progression towards modernity.

Smart marketing and research teams are also well aware of the influence that foreign culture has on the Japanese. Yoshinoya, a very popular fast food chain, infamous for their very cheap gyudon 'beef bowl', is a great example. All the beef is American, hailed as the best in the world by devoted customers.

After an incidence of BSE in the United States last December, sales actually increased. The ban on US beef made supplies scarce, and fans of the 'beef bowl' wanted to get in before the supplies ran out. Wanting to make supplies last, owners of the chain even had to cut back the hours of operation. The purchase of the last beef bowl was televised, while sad beef-lovers said their farewells to American beef, until further notice. One customer in Ibaragi prefecture actually assaulted other diners when he discovered he arrived after the last bowl had been served.

While most of the world fights against the consumption of such endangered species as whales and turtles, the Japanese protest the 18-year ban on whale hunting. When raising the debate with Japanese friends, I always hear the widely circulated myth: there are going to be too many whales and not enough fish in the ocean unless we start hunting again. Sure enough, the media has been rebelliously pushing the meat since officials launched an advertising campaign in 2002 praising the versatility of whale meat. Whale tempura may be a delicacy to some, but how about the pollution of the coastal waters that have tainted the whale and turtle meat?

Sampling of whale meat has shown it to be seriously contaminated. In June 2003, a warning was issued to pregnant women to abstain from large consumptions of certain fish, including the popular tuna. Seemingly unphased by the warnings and oblivious of threats to our health, Japan keeps its place as the biggest consumers of fish in the world. The public still goes crazy for beef possibly tainted by BSE and endangered fish laced with obscene amounts of mercury and carcinogens. Is the media keeping this information hidden, or are Japanese people attracted to risky foods?

Mass media is guilty of covering up big scandals in Japan. After the first outbreak of BSE in Japan, the government introduced a support scheme for beef distributors who couldn't sell their domestic beef to the disenchanted public. Snow Brand Food, a subsidiary of Snow Brand Milk Products, fell into this category and decided to exaggerate their inventory by changing the labels on their Australian beef to 'domestic' in order to cash in on bigger handouts.

As if they were determined to get away with the crime, they falsified tags again. The second time they mislabeled Hokkaido beef (where mad cow was initially found) as meat from southern Kumamoto prefecture, still a BSE-free area. In North American this sort of hanky panky would ruin a company. Not in Japan. I can still go to the supermarket and purchase Snow Brand milk and cheese.

The cover-ups are vaguely reminiscent of a whole string of deadly food poisonings in the late 1990s. Slow responses by the government and lax hygiene rules in food safety caused kids from every prefecture in Japan to get ill from eating contaminated school lunches. They were so slow that another batch of the same meat contaminated with the e-boli bacteria was served five days later bringing the total number infected to almost 10,000.

Media also fuels hysteria. In response to plummeting beef sales after the first case of mad cow outbreaks and just before the Snow Brand Food scandals, the media declared Japanese beef the 'safest' in the world. Even after 9 reported cases of BSE in Japanese cattle, the media sought to restore consumer confidence in beef. Masses of people (75% of the population) had given up beef and even stopped drinking milk. Officials and politicians organized propaganda rallies, newspaper stories and radio reports which all ensured the safety of Japanese beef and milk. Japanese news reports rarely bother to explain what BSE actually is or its infeasibility in dairy products—leaving consumers in the dark again.

Perhaps this solves the puzzle: with a limited knowledge of current events, Japanese people are sheltered from an understanding of vegetarianism.

Internationalism
'Internationalism' has become a catchphrase in the Japanese media. The proliferation of English language schools in the past twenty years is viewed as evidence of a growing interest in 'global communication'. An unquenchable appetite for all things foreign and eagerness to absorb some form of multi-culturalism in a traditionally isolated and mono-racial nation are believed to be keys to modernization and development.

Walking down the street, one can witness the influences of the western world: a Hard Rock Café, a Godiva chocolate store, Cartier, and Burberry all on the same block. For the slightly more curious, there are all sorts of south Asian clothiers and ethnic restaurants are popping up everywhere. Fusion restaurants are the growing trend. The most popular seems to be Italian-Japanese, where dishes like spaghetti and pizza have been japanized. Squid ink pasta topped with tomato sauce, tuna and seaweed pizza, to mention a few delights. It seems that cultural objects from all over the world have been received, but not some fundamental ideologies.

Vegetarianism is on the rise in North American and Europe, but still a mystery to most of the Japanese public. The fad of Indian cuisine is growing strong, but very few people know that vegetarianism originated there. Indian restaurants offer less vegetarian selections, are even forced to play down the fact that many dishes are traditionally served without meat or fish. Pseudo-organic restaurants and neo-hippie cafes can be found in major cities. But many have misappropriated the external cultural elements, duplicating interior design or clothing styles but not the real function, which is to enjoy organic vegetarian food and not destroy the environment.

Vegetarianism growing elsewhere
All over the developed world I've seen people recognizing the freedom of vegetarianism. Even a nation such as The United States of America, infamous for hamburgers and fried chicken, could accept a vegan. While growing up, my steak-loving friends used to tease me when we went out for dinner, but these playful battles were always rooted in genuine curiosity. My Welsh parents, raised on a traditional diet of meat, potatoes and cottage pie, found ways to tolerate their meat-weary daughter. Using tofu and TVP and tempeh, most international dishes can be replicated and perhaps even improved. My travels around the world brought varying levels of success.

In Thailand, where Buddhist beliefs are deeply respected, I could request anything made vegetarian without attracting curious looks. In Shanghai, the versatility of a dietary staple: tofu was catching on. A whole variety of restaurants offered Chinese dishes with a soy substitution, I even indulged in 'shrimp' dumplings and sweet and sour 'pork'. A tour of Eastern Europe and Greece couldn't faze me; there were vegan salads and delicious pastries bursting with vegetable fillings. Prior to arriving in Italy, I had fearful images of meaty spaghetti sauce and pepperoni pizza. On the contrary, most of what the menus offered was indeed vegetarian, or could be altered on request. The only trouble I've encountered thus far has been in Japan.

Tokyo Vegetarian Guide
Japan Vegetarian Society
Tengu Natural Foods
Happy Cow's Global Guide to Vegetarian Restaurents - Japan
Tokyo Food Page Restaurant Guide - Vegetarian and Health Food