Don't Get Sake With Me Sunshine.
In a tightly regimented society it's necessary to have a few pressure gauges. Reading porn on the metro, getting in the bath butt naked with your work colleagues, making an arse of yourself with a microphone, and of course my favorite, getting utterly mortaled. The Japanese love their booze and can often be seen collapsed over a handy wall of a Friday night. 'Biru' (beer) is the nation's favorite and comes in big Deutchland style tankards (none of your wooftie continental canyas for us) with the more traditional sake close behind. Sake is so beloved of the Japanese that it is given in great quantities as offerings at temples. Never mind your cash-for-questions get the barrels in for the baldy lads. There is much debate as to which is better, hot or cold. The key seems to be, as with all alcohol, the more expensive the better. And don't overdo it. Take it from me.

Something fishy this way comes.
Call me naïve but I hadn't realised Japanese cuisine was based quite so heavily on 'sea chicken'. Veggies in Spain will recognise the frustration of managing to successfully convey your preference for not snacking on something that once had a face only to later receive something suspect floating in a whiffy sauce. Or perfectly kosher and 'dericious' looking but with bits of shaved gill curling up on top. It should be pointed out that the Japanese are unfailingly polite and helpful (never will they be heard to moan that slicing a few tomatoes is 'mucho trabajo') and take a great deal of care over the preparation of any food (which always looks beautiful) and sushi chefs are total artists.
There are, of course, times when salad eaters can find themselves grateful. Such as when the bar snacks contain what can only have been somethings' nostril. Yum. Limited eating out opportunity is improving my cooking skills. I made some killer veg sushi which many wasted years rolling spliff have stood me in good stead for. Fastest fingers in the east me. I have to say I'm not too down with seaweed. Can't seems to shake the mental image of brown foam bobbing in Scarborough rock pools.
Something that makes being a faddy eater easier in Japan is the displays of each restaurant's fare lovingly modeled in plastic and displayed in the outside window. Just look past the overly shiny exterior and drag the waiter outside to point at what you want then sit back and enjoy.

Untill next time; I'll have the styrofoam one in the corner please.