In Japan, there are plenty of strange things to see, but I never thought I would be adding a drunken verbal battle over cooking styles at 3:00 a.m. to the list of oddities my eyes have been privy to.

Lately the dormitory has been empty, because everyone is participating in their various homestays which have spread them far and wide over the 23 wards. Absolutely fine with me. The Kenshukan's annoyances are gone, and only the most interesting people are left: the Japanese and the Koreans.

The solitude has also lead to some heavy drinking by some of the residents here.

Choi, one of the incredibly talented Koreans, stumbled into the kitchen while Hisayo, Numa and myself were rolling sushi, and he went on a red-eyed, drunken rampage--entirely in Japanese--about which style of sushi rolling was the correct one. Of course, Choi preferred the Korean style, and insisted on showing us; adding his own secret spices to our rice, and rolling a lumpy

The normally quiet, reserved Korean was completely out of character, shouting, yelling, throwing sticky rice in what seemed to be a feigned attempt at anger. He truly seems to be a reserved, calm, human being, but I suppose something about Kappa-Maki (cucumber sushi) just threw him into a tailspin.

It was my first real experience with a Japanese argument, and it was phenomenal.

Though, after I taste test, I still prefer the Japanese style.

...and a quick note: as I was finishing this entry, I was interrupted again by Choi, though it was incredibly pleasant as he complimented my typing speed.

Tonight has been absolutely wonderful and I'm having a very difficult time writing about it properly. Sorry. I know how awful this is.