Finding good Mexican food in Japan is rare. Many times we have walked into a tasty looking restaurant with high hopes only to be disappointed by canned salsa and stale chips, something that many Japanese people who have not had real Mexican consider genuine. So when my buddy led me down a narrow staircase to an underground bar called Jelly Bean Rocket that had pop and rock blaring from its speakers, I was leery.
We scanned down the menu ordering a series of dishes to test the culinary skill of the lone bartender/cook manning the place. Each dish that came before us both looked and tasted excellent causing it to be devoured in record time, quickly convincing me that we had finally found a halfway decent place. Soon the heaviness in our stomachs could not be ignored and our eating ground to a halt.
As we walked our dinner off down by the river with drink in hand my friend heard a shout that was apparently directed at us. We glanced around and saw a group of people on one of the yuka (outdoor raised eating platforms connected to a restaurant) standing and looking over the edge into the stream next to the river. Kyoto is famous for these yuka and in the summer many restaurants put them up next to the Kamo River creating a very scenic and festive atmosphere.
So now, here was a group of older people pointing down frantically looking for something. We walked up, “Were you shouting at us? Can we help you?” “Yes, please, please, the wind just blew 10,000yen ($100) into the river, do you see it?”
The note was lazily drifting downstream in the current a few feet from shore and my friend stepped into the water and fished it out. “Oh thank you, thank you, wait just a minute and we will come to you.” The problem with that statement being that to get to us they would have to go around all the restaurants, go down some stairs, and then come all the way back to where we were standing, a good 15 or 20 minute endeavor, and when drunk even longer. This point quickly struck home, the restaurant staff got involved and a new plan was hatched.
After a few minutes over the railing appeared a big white bucket fastened with what appeared to be plastic wrap. Mind you, the distance between them on the yuka and us on the ground was about 15 feet. Luckily their ‘rope’ was long enough. “Put the money in the bucket, there is a 1000yen ($10) tip for both of you inside” they cheerily shouted down. We placed the 10,000yen in the bucket, took our tip, bid our farewell with a smile and continued on our way. Only in Japan.
