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I’m determined to be adventurous, though.
I eat a piece of pickled ginger to cleanse my palate, then dip the tip of my chopstick into the brown substance and lick it gingerly.
It’s creamy in a gross way and much too briny for my taste.
There’s no way I’m eating it.
Grr. Now Mom will get to say, “I told you so.” Which is unfair, because I ate all the other stuff, raw fish included.
“You know, that’s my favorite,” Vlad says, noticing my grimace. “Can we please trade?”
I squeeze his knee gratefully and put the uni on his plate, grabbing a piece of his salmon and yellow fish in exchange.
“Uni is considered an aphrodisiac in Japan,” Mom whispers to Vlad conspiratorially.
If that’s true, given the way she flirts with Vlad, she must’ve eaten a whole ocean of urchin gonads for breakfast.
“Have you been to Japan?” she asks Vlad.
Here we go. When I was in college, my parents started to travel, and now they never shut up about it—and about the fact that other than my one and only trip to Prague, I haven’t been anywhere outside the US.
It’s another dig at my unadventurousness. Which is unfair. I simply haven’t had the time or the funds to travel at this stage of my career.
I would totally go lots of places if I could.
Probably.
I hope.
Vlad nods. “Kyoto was my favorite city, but I’ve been all over the country.”
Mom grins. “Us too. Everything was matcha-flavored in Kyoto. Did you go to the Monkey Park?”
They bond over Japan for a while before switching focus to Russia, which they quiz Vlad about. It’s a destination they haven’t crossed off their bucket list. I listen as he gladly answers their questions, telling them all about his hometown of Murmansk and how one can see the Northern Lights there in the winter.
I have to admit, I would kill to see those.
The aurora borealis phenomenon is definitely on my bucket list.
We finish off the meal with fried green tea ice cream that, according to Mom, “isn’t as good as the ones you can get in Kyoto.”
When the check comes, Vlad grabs it and hands his card to the waiter before my dad can so much as open his mouth about splitting the bill.
“Thank you,” Mom tells him as we walk out of the restaurant and head back to my place.
The Russian quiz continues during our walk home. As we reach my building, Vlad stops and smiles warmly at my parents.
“It was very nice to meet you both,” he says. “Would you like a ride home?”
They look confused until he gestures at the limo.
Mom gives him her cougariest onceover of the day. “Yes, please. Thank you.”
We walk over to the limo, where Vlad takes a large backpack from Ivan and says something in Russian, nodding at my folks.
Ivan dips his head in agreement and holds the door for Mom and Dad as they scooch in.
“Bye,” I say with a wave. “Call before you come over next time.”
