Upon arriving in Japan for my sophomore year abroad, I was asked by a Japanese research student what I had come to study. In Japanese I answered, "I didn't come to study, I came to play," and play I did (the sponsors of my scholarship, however, should rest assured that my grades were not affected by my lifestyle). The academic journey that brought me to Japan began when I diverted my path away from modern dance. And I think it wasn't until I quit my career as a performing artist that I started striving toward being an artist of life - you know, one of those people who is truly present in the moment, every moment, not just ones on stage. I think anyone who knows about the decadent life of playing hard or about the simple pleasures of being an artist of life has a special appreciation for food. Eating, after all, is an experience that engages all five senses. Japanese gourmands may even argue that it includes a sixth, the sense that relates a dish to a season. Some Japanese people consider how well a dish brings out the feeling of the season the most important element of the eating experience. The food should not just give a visual impression of the season but actually allow the diner to sense the season.

Many age-old arts of Japan, from self-defense to flower arranging, have crossed the Pacific, but perhaps none so widespread in recent years as the art of cooking (due in part no doubt to the world-wide broadcast of Iron Chef). Cooking, however, is just half the story. As the guest panelists on Iron Chef could tell you, eating delicious food is a way of life, or at least a way of vacation planning, for many in Japan. Every region has its own specialty. If you tell a Japanese person you are going to visit a specific place, he or she will more than likely tell you about a special cuisine you should try. Even though the Japanese staple is rice, many of these specialty foods are surprisingly noodle dishes.

If you visit Sapporo, ramen is a must. Nagano (host of the 1998 Winter Olympics) is known for its soba (buckwheat noodles). Nagoya has its flat, fettuccini-like kishimen. Kyushu has a ramen that is completely different, according to locals, from anything you'd find in Sapporo. The residents of Shikoku pride themselves on their sanuki udon, and Shodoshima, a small island between Honshu and Shikoku, makes angel-hair-like somen. Although their shapes can be compared to Italian counterparts, the way they are prepared cannot. In colder weather the noodles are served in a big bowl of steaming soup. In hotter weather they are served drained and chilled with a dipping sauce on the side.

The masters of the noodle making tradition share their wisdom and generations of experience with those who want to try their hand at it. Under the strict yet generous guidance of such masters, I had the chance to roll out soba, somen, and udon. The process for each of them is too complicated to recount here or recall without practiced repetition. Maybe that's what makes them art forms. My noodles were no works of art.

If you go to Japan, don't spend all your time eating sushi, tempura, and teriyaki. Have a hot bowl of udon to warm a winter day, soba made from freshly harvested buckwheat, or a refreshing serving of somen to cool a summer afternoon. The one noodle dish I don't recommend trying in Japan is spaghetti. The Japanese love spaghetti, have made it their own, and have created toppings for it like fish eggs and seaweed. Now, I have nothing against fish eggs and seaweed, but the best food advice I can give you would be - When in Japan, eat Japanese food; when in Rome, eat Italian.