I got to know Mrs. Tada on the street! The little town where we both live is some way off from the area where many Japanese live. Mrs. Tada came to Germany with her husband, who is working here. Her little daughter Ako goes to the Japanese school, while Mr. Tada's work keeps him very busy and he is often away on business. Arriving in a country where she didn't speak the language, what to do with her sudden excess of leisure time was a big headache for Mrs. Tada. This is why one could often see her solitary figure walking around the streets of this little town.

Seeing my "oriental face" from way off across the street she would smile at me and bow deeply from the waist, her torso parallel with the ground. With some embarrassment, I would go along with her "mistake" and return her bows. Over more than a month we built up a silent "friendship" through these 90°bows.

"((((shit((shima." One day I was choosing goods from the supermarket shelves when I heard Mrs. Tada's quiet voice behind me as she tapped me lightly on the shoulder. "(((((." Scraping together my few words of Japanese, I somehow told her I was not Japanese, and couldn't understand what she was saying. Mrs. Tada suddenly burst out laughing and apologized profusely in broken German, bowing deeply over and over again, while I returned all her bows with embarrassment. Thus we were introduced, and Mrs. Tada rushed off to her German class.

"You're from Taiwan--you must be able to do Chinese cooking. Can you teach me?" Mrs. Tada asked me one day. "A woman from Taiwan can't turn down a challenge like that from a Japanese woman!" I told myself silently. I made some time, and taught her how to make a cold dish of stewed meat and eggs. Then Mrs. Tada came to see me again: "I've got some friends who are bored to tears at home, and when they heard I was learning Chinese cooking from you, they said they'd like to come too. Please! Please! Can you take a few more students?" Before I had time to answer, Mrs. Tada rattled off a whole lot more earnest entreaties, making it impossible for me to refuse.

At the beginning, when I was preparing my lessons, I was none too sure of myself, and I would first practice making every single dish at home. Only when they were successful would I use them in my lessons. Thus in all I took on four groups of students with six in each group. From Monday to Thursday, after each lesson we would lunch on the fruits of our labors, awarding marks there and then. After lunch, we would often go off to play tennis or golf, or take the children out for a drive.

After I began teaching them I realized I had to start right from "chopping the vegetables," for even the cutting techniques in Japanese cooking are somewhat different from ours. Later I discovered that "heat control" is also something crucial. In this way our lessons in "Chinese cooking" turned into "comparative cooking studies," in which we went from talking about Chinese cooking to Japanese cooking, French cooking, German cooking. . ., and later they turned into "comparative cultural studies," in which we discussed the different customs, habits and lifestyles of various nations.

What I and this group of Japanese wives are most proud of is that we successfully stewed a whole lot of "unmeatlike" meats such as pork tripe, pork liver, pork heart and beef tripe, along with seaweed and dried beancurd, to serve up to their Japanese husbands with their drinks. These drinking dishes, which they christened "Veronika's Cold Platter," successfully broke down the Japanese custom of not eating offal. Even today we still love to reminisce about how the Japanese gentlemen exclaimed how tasty it all was!

[Picture Caption]

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At the end of another successful cooking lesson, neither teacher nor students can conceal their elation, even though they have only made two dishes and a soup. (The writer is first from the right.)