A room of tatami mats and sore knees, a table crammed with fried pork and tofu and horse meat (the kind of thing a person has to try if she is only 85% vegetarian and which is, admittedly, delicious) and super chocolate brownies, four Japanese conversationalists, two American teachers, two gawk-eyed tourists, lots of laughter, rain on a tin roof. Robin and I teach the Japanese "party foul" and "jail bait," after they tell us Hal has already taught them "cougar," and "sugar mama." 24 hours in the country, and she still has not knocked anything over. I have knocked over wineglasses (party foul), and several small old people who just bow and say the Japanese or Korean equivalent of "no problem." At least I think this is what they said. I have a photo of me next to a woman who is way shorter than me. I am big and klutzy and I keep forgetting that it's rude to yawn.