Internet Cafes, Bullet Trains, Irish Bars

Posted on 09/08/2014 by Luke

Grilled fish of the day is salmon for the third day in a row. After breakfast, I return to my room and return my room to a state that looks exactly as it did before I arrived, a hotel habit of mine. After that, I check out and head to Popeye Media Cafe to write things up.

The Internet cafe doesn’t only provide Internet access. The following items are offered at no cost (¥0): bath towel, body soap, shampoo, conditioner, hair dryer, hair iron, toothbrush, skin toner, shaving equipment (razor and shaving foam), drinks from three vending machines (offering ‘over 50 kinds of drinks!’), mobile phone charging, two plugs per person (‘you can plug in a device!’), wireless Internet, showers, and a sunbed. All of these amenities are complimentary.

They also have a ¥360 hot food vending machine, but that seems to be the only thing you need to pay for, other than time. The cafe also offers a library of comic books, better known as manga. The amount of manga on offer is insane, with bookshelves spread endlessly in every direction. Where there isn’t a private booth with a computer, there is a bookshelf. The cafe boasts an impressive 179 computers.

“I paid ¥980 for five hours, the day rate. I’ve actually been here twice before. Those times, I foolishly came during the evening and paid ¥805 for two hours and ¥1330 for three hours.

Today, I am assigned booth twenty-two. My computer runs Windows XP, and Google Chrome has already been downloaded. Next to my monitor is a menu for Domino’s Pizza. If I want, I can select a pizza from the menu, and the front desk will order it for me, handle the payment upon its arrival, and deliver it to my desk. The pizza will be added to my ‘check’ and paid for at the end.

I lounge in my reclining chair and write for five hours, all the while sipping on my free drinks. Today, I’m heading to Nagoya and can’t check into my hotel until 2 p.m. Might as well kill time by writing, that’s what I say.

I like it here; dingy, comfortable chair, feels good. I can see how people can end up spending a whole night here. People actually do just that. Because of the free amenities on offer and the availability of private booths to rent for a special ‘all night’ rate, people actually sleep here. It works out cheaper than a hotel, and you can read all the comic books you desire.

When I’m done, I settle my bill and leave. Outside, the sun is far too bright, especially after sitting in the dark for five hours. At 3 p.m., I take the bullet train to Nagoya. It costs ¥6760 for a 52-minute journey. It’s twice as expensive as the local trains, but they take three times as long, and I can’t deal with that. I reserve a window seat to make use of the ‘free’ plug socket. I realise that this might well be my last ride on the bullet train for a while. It’s quite saddening, actually; the bullet train really is a treat.

I arrive in Nagoya at 4:02 p.m., precisely as stated on my ticket—efficient as always.

The station exits out into the heart of the city, and a beautiful city it is. Thunder sounds in the distance, threatening rain, with a few flashes of lightning in the sky, but I only have to walk for five minutes. It starts to rain ever so slightly just as I arrive at my hotel. The lift doors open as I approach, “Welcome in,” they say in a robotic female voice.

In my room, I find that I am given loads of free stuff: a comb, toothbrush, toothpaste, slippers to keep, a shower cap, razor, bottled water, cotton buds, tea, coffee, and my own individual wireless network. It feels like I am back at the Internet cafe. The complimentary toothbrush says, “Thank you for using me. Please relax slowly.”

Outside, Nagoya feels right, especially after Osaka and its indecipherable road layouts. Sometimes a place grabs you, giving an instant good feeling; Nagoya has just that. Some might think Nagoya is like everywhere else—tall buildings, concrete, and neon. They would be right. But something about the place, about my initial impression, draws me into the neon of the night.

I walk around for a good few hours. One of the things I enjoy about visiting a new place is thoroughly exploring the backstreets and restaurants—reconnoitering. I notice small rectangular holes cut into a wall, just the right size for a hand. On the other side of the hole is an anonymous person: a hand wrapped in a white glove, a small tray for exchanging objects or money. Worthless pachinko parlour prizes are discreetly swapped here for cash, with no one seeing anyone else’s face.

It’s 8 p.m. but feels like eleven. I step into an ‘Irish’ bar where American punk is playing, and ‘J Sports 2’ is showing a Japanese baseball game. Quite the Irish experience, indeed. I order half a Guinness and a Glenlivet 12 on the rocks; they each cost ¥600. The Guinness tastes poor at best, far from the standard I am used to from the pubs back home.

I am asked to pay up front, which is unusual here.

The music changes to the Libertines. I can’t complain. I consider the instructions on my receipt, ‘enjoy and enjoy and get dead drunk.’ After finishing my drinks, I stand up to leave. As I do, one of the barmen stops me. “It’s our eight-year anniversary. Please choose a colour,” he says.
“Okay …” I ponder the question for a moment. “Green,” I reply. The barman reaches into a box under the desk and pulls out a bright green t-shirt.
“This is free for you,” he tells me as he hands me the t-shirt. Amazing, even more free stuff. I thank him and leave.

Nagoya, the capital of Aichi Prefecture, is distinctly a business-centric hub. Everywhere I look, there are men in white shirts, black trousers, and black shoes—salarymen abound. The horizon is engulfed by a mix of black, white, and neon. Notably, Nagoya’s GDP accounts for 1% of the global economy. Toyota, too, began its journey here, in a town called Toyota, within a city, also named Toyota. It might seem like a kind gesture that the car manufacturer adopted the town’s name, but in reality, the city was initially called Koromo, only changing its name to Toyota in 1959. The town followed suit, renaming itself Toyota. Capitalism in Japan—a fascinating phenomenon.

With the Domino’s Pizza menu from earlier today lingering in my mind, I opt for another unconventional yet healthy choice for a traditional Japanese meal: Italian food. The menu is entirely in Japanese, but the waiter promptly prints off a fresh, crisp, English menu for me. I decide on a tuna pizza, which arrives with a lovely bowl of minestrone soup.

As far as pizza goes, this is probably one of the greasiest I’ve ever had. But it’s good. Very good. I pay what seems like a lot and sneak a couple of the ‘free’ complimentary pieces of nutty caramel flapjack—very Italian. The bill comes to ¥2667, and I receive a delightful ¥333 in change.

Back at the hotel I fall asleep watching ‘Back to the Future’.

When Haricot Met Celery

Posted on 07/08/2014 by Luke

I wake up at 9 a.m. and head down to the lobby for my Japanese-style breakfast. The food is almost identical to yesterday. The grilled fish of the day is once again salmon. The only change is that my cooked seasonal vegetables today are haricot beans and peppers, mixed in with natto. My side salad includes corn on the cob, celery, and red onion. I gaze out of the window whilst I struggle with my breakfast, a meal I am not used to eating.

After breakfast, I take the subway from Shin-Osaka Station to Namba Station. Getting off the train, I head toward the famous Namba Grand Kagetsu Theatre, hoping to catch some manzai comedy. Osaka actually produces most of the comedians in Japan. Manzai is a type of stand-up comedy where two comedians perform a routine together. Even if in Japanese, good manzai can be very funny to watch because a big part of the show is the timings and actions on stage. Sadly, there is no performance happening at the moment.

I check my map and decide to head to a place called ‘Americamura.’ I wonder what I will find there.

Shops here sell American clothing, some entirely dedicated to selling baseball hats or soccer jerseys. Mixed in with this madness are shops selling skate, punk, and retro clothing. I enter a bookshop that sells herbal teas, skateboards, and, of course, books.

All of the big brands have their own ‘flagship’ stores here. Mixed in with the clothing are some really cheap-looking bars selling inexpensive drinks. Surprisingly, all the tourists and shoppers here are Japanese; there isn’t an American in sight. I’m not quite sure how this place came to be. After a few blocks, I see a Tokyu Hands; the store marks for me where America ends and Japan begins again.

I decide to take a break from the heat and head to the fifth floor using the Tokyu Hands elevator. The shop describes itself as a ‘Creative Life Store’, offering a vast array of products. On this floor, they have party supplies, a variety of items, magician supplies, and bicycles. A song from the film ‘Frozen’ is playing, the Japanese version. I check out some of the cool gadgets, then glance at the prices of bicycles; they’re quite expensive here.

If you’re not particularly interested in shopping, today probably isn’t for you—or for me. I head into the Shin-sai-bashi shopping arcade. This is one of Osaka’s oldest and busiest shopping areas, stretching for approximately 600 metres. Everything you ever wanted is in this arcade.

There is a shop that only sells ‘Hello Kitty’ goods, and another named ‘Pancakes, Teas, Coffee, and Happy.’ I’ve noticed that in Osaka, the word happy is used an awful lot. SoftBank, a Japanese telecommunications company, has its own robot. It moves around and engages in a conversation with me about their new products. His name is Pepper.

Also in the shopping arcade are the usual clothes shops, restaurants, and souvenir shops. I head into my second bookshop of the day, Junkudo. I’m searching for two specific books. I find one of them, ‘Pinball 1973,’ but it’s only available in the Japanese version. I’m trying to get hold of the English version printed for Japanese people to practice their English skills.

As I leave the bookshop, I’m taken slightly aback by a sign. At the bottom of the escalator, there’s an advertisement for ‘Meets,’ the bar I mentioned a few days ago. It displays a price list along with some other Japanese text. I take a photograph and add it to my folder of coincidences. Back in the arcade, that same song from the film ‘Frozen’ is playing.

Next, I visit a place called Dotonbori. The pavement here is littered with small restaurants and pachinko parlours. Each restaurant is stacked high, adorned with brightly coloured signage that becomes illuminated in the evenings. It’s the sort of street that I imagine looks just like a scene from Blade Runner at dusk, especially when it’s raining.

On the other side of Namba Station are shops selling manga and anime in an area known as Den Den Town. I spot two or three shops exclusively dedicated to selling Magic: The Gathering playing cards. Other shops offer model figurines and electronics. It reminds me of Akihabara, but on a much smaller scale. Girls dressed as maids stand on street corners, attempting to lure people into the many maid cafes.

I waste a quick ¥500 in a Sega video game arcade before heading back to the train station. At the station, I have to walk through even more shops to reach the platform. I take the Koya Line just one stop to Shin-imamiya Station. I decide to check out a place called Spa World, but it seems luck isn’t on my side as there’s a fence around it, and it appears to be closed for construction.

Instead, I head toward a tower in the distance. To reach the tower, I have to walk down yet another shopping street.

Unlike the other shopping streets, this one boasts a 103.3-metre-tall tower right in the middle—Tsutenkaku Tower, meaning ‘Tower reaching heaven.’ I also admire the Carnival Cutouts; one depicts what seems to be a sumo wrestler devouring a skewer of meat or wielding a rolling pin. It’s a bit ambiguous, but my guess would be a skewer, considering that’s all the restaurants in this area seem to be selling.

I choose a completely empty restaurant, taking a seat wherever I want, and order a Suntory whisky highball with lemon. With the number of times I’ve mentioned their whisky and coffee, I should probably get some commission money from Suntory. I opt for three salmon skewers and three white fish skewers. While I wait, I snack on the complimentary fresh lettuce and sip my highball.

The white fish turns out to be haddock, while the salmon is fresh, served with a light tartare sauce dressing. The skewered meat is already prepared on the counter; all the chef needs to do is cover each fish with flour, egg, and breadcrumbs before deep frying each stick in oil. This restaurant has all sorts of crazy ideas, but the ones that stand out are cheesecake skewers, ice cream skewers, and banana skewers. I’d eat fried fish on sticks every day if it weren’t for the fact that it would probably kill me. At ¥1050, not bad with a drink.

I head back out into the scorching sunshine. At the end of the shopping street is a zoo, complete with a Snow White Clock Tower. The time is now ten to three in the afternoon, so I decide to wait and see if anything happens on the hour. My life is that exciting. Sure enough, at three, everything starts moving, singing, and dancing, and then Snow White emerges from the clock. Not to be missed—the Tennoji Zoo.

At Tennoji Station, I board what I believe is the Osaka Loop Line. As it turns out, it isn’t. After three stops, everyone disembarks. I find myself disoriented; there are no signs indicating my location. I board the train across the platform, which indicates it’s the Rapid Service bound for Nara. Fortunately, it stops back at Tennoji Station. Returning to where I started, I board the Osaka Loop Line to Osaka. From there, I transfer trains to Shin-Osaka, before deciding that six trains in a day are plenty.

Back at the hotel, I read for a while before sorting through my photographs of the day. I stare at the sign I saw in the bookshop, advertising that same bar. I decide to head out and see if it is open tonight. I walk ten minutes to the bar and am pleased to see its shutters up.

I first visited Meets when I was in Osaka in July 2012. The bar is L-shaped and has a total of seven seats. That night two years ago remains my favourite nightlife experience in Japan. Despite its small size, there were two members of staff working there: a man and a young woman who bore a striking resemblance to Jennifer Aniston. I spent the whole evening talking to her. However, she didn’t speak a word of English, so we conversed in turns using her smartphone translation application. She would speak in Japanese, I would read the text, and then reply in English, and so on.

Anyway, back to today. Only one member of staff is working, a Japanese man called Ken. He’s the same guy who was working that night two years ago. I order a Suntory whisky highball and take a seat. I’m the only customer; a baseball game is playing on the television. At 8:50 p.m., Ken switches the television channel from baseball to the ending credits of a random show whose name I might never know. On-screen for no longer than three seconds appears Micaela Braithwaite, the woman I greeted in Fukuoka. I can’t snap a photograph fast enough.

The bar I saw advertised in a bookshop today, and he changes the channel at that exact moment. Ten seconds later, the credits stop and the adverts begin. What are the chances? Sometimes, it feels like I’m living inside my own memories. “I’ve worked here for three years now,” Ken tells me, chipping in with small talk.

Next, a girl named Mana enters the scene. She is from Taito, the same ward in Tokyo as Asakusa; we are practically neighbours, though a million miles away from home. We drink. Ken writes all of our names in kanji, while I write them in hiragana and katakana. We continue drinking. Mana and I talk about Asakusa, although our conversation is limited to basic English and basic Japanese. Unfortunately, there’s never a smartphone translation application around when you need one.

At 10 p.m., I finish my final highball, bid goodbye to Mana, and say farewell to Ken. My bill comes to ¥2500 for four singles and a double. “See you in two years,” I tell Ken, jokingly.

After Meets, I attempt to find some food; I haven’t eaten anything since the fish on sticks. The area around Nishinakajimaminamigata Station is littered with touts, neon lights, and shady massage parlours. I’ve been craving curry for perhaps a week. The first restaurant, simply named ‘Indian Restaurant,’ displays ‘Last Orders at 11:30 p.m.’ As I approach, the Japanese chef who’s taking in the sign informs me that they are closed.

The second restaurant is owned by a Nepalese family and is open. Inside, I order a bottle of ‘Nepal Ice,’ having never tried it before; do as the Nepalese do, and all that. The beer boldly claims to be the ‘coolest beer.’ It’s pale with a slight bitterness, just like me.

I order the classic vegetable curry, egg rice, and garlic naan. The Nepalese waiter speaks English but habitually addresses me in Japanese. “Poppadom,” he says as he hands me a spicy poppadom.
“Arigatou gozaimasu,” I reply in Japanese, out of habit. The poppadom is a little stale but spicy; it will do. Hopefully, it isn’t a taste of things to come. The muskiness is slightly drowned out by the spice, and the spice itself is drowned out by the Nepal Ice.

My food arrives, and I order a second bottle of beer. The spice level is almost perfect—perhaps it could be a tiny bit hotter, but I don’t mind much. I pay ¥2350 for two drinks and a really good curry.

Height of the Lifting Tread

Posted on 06/08/2014 by Luke

Today, I woke up at 4 a.m. My sleep pattern is completely messed up from spending a week in a fourteen-bedroom dormitory room, constantly being disrupted by shuffling, case repacking, and inconsiderate chicken eaters. Anyway, for the next seven nights, I’ll be enjoying the luxury of a lonely hotel.

With little else to do, I decide to take a look at Japanese television for the first time in months. Honda is launching an aeroplane, the HondaJet, which might as well be a spaceship considering its appearance. Cristiano Ronaldo is advertising some weird gadget that you roll on your body, perhaps to release muscle tension, but its exact purpose remains unclear. A baseball match is rained off. There’s a game show where a member of the girl idol band AKB48 is being chased down a street by one hundred convicts who escaped from prison vans. Hilarious. I switch the TV off.

At 7 a.m. sharp, I head down for my ‘free’ breakfast. I am greeted by warm smiles, fastidious service, and first-class hospitality. My breakfast comprises a Japanese-style omelette, grilled fish of the day (salmon), salad with homemade dressing, cooked seasonal vegetables, homemade tofu, white rice, homemade pickles, and a pot of miso soup. Additionally, I help myself to drinks; opting for orange juice over coffee.

The breakfast is a success, fitting my pescatarian diet as well. I enjoy everything except half of the tofu; it’s never been my preference. Although the rice and miso soup are self-service, allowing me to have more, I opt not to be greedy. Feeling satiated, I return to my room to read, but I find myself dozing off.

I wake up again just after 11 a.m.; I must have been really tired. I dry my shoes with a hairdryer, and ten minutes later, I’m out the hotel door, umbrella in hand. It’s the kind of hotel where you have to hand in your key at reception every time you leave. Works well for me—I hate carrying bulky hotel keys around anyway.

Outside, I take a train to Osaka Station for ¥160. Unfortunately, my Suica card randomly stops working, so I’m forced to buy an Icoca Card, the Osaka equivalent. The Icoca card is light blue and features Ico the Platypus. These cards often contain hidden puns. The ‘Super Urban Intelligent CArd’ is a play on the word ‘suika,’ meaning watermelon. ‘Sui sui’ is an ideophone signifying smooth movement. Much like a penguin swimming effortlessly in water, my card usually allows me to glide smoothly through the ticket gates—except when it randomly stops working at the gates.

At Osaka Station, the Muzak drives me crazy. I keep hearing the same songs over and over. There’s this one Japanese song with a female vocalist and an incredibly catchy melody. I might even say I like it and want to find out its title. However, my issue is that every time it plays, it’s too quiet for me to catch any of the words. As usual, the tune will be stuck in my head for the next few hours, the jaunty music swirling around my head like a relentless earworm.

I escape the torture of the train station Muzak and head straight for the Umeda Sky Building. As I arrive, the rain stops. Just great — now I have to carry around a useless umbrella all day while humming the melody of that song. Spotting a sign for ‘Fun Fun Plaza’ cheers me right up.

At the base of the Umeda Sky Building, there are numerous beautiful, well-cared-for gardens, and fountains. The building comprises two 40-storey skyscrapers connected near the top by two escalators that appear to float in mid-air. The rooftop terrace forms a floating sky garden.

To reach it, I have to take a glass elevator to the 39th floor. Interestingly, the building was designed by Hiroshi Hara, the same architect behind that lovely roof in Kyoto Station. Once I reach the 39th floor, I’m left with no option but to step onto the escalator. As my foot touches the moving walkway, I freeze. I could walk along the escalator and end this ordeal sooner, but I’m unable to move. The very top of the escalator stands at 173 metres above ground.

On the other side of the escalator, a woman greets me at reception, and I’m required to pay ¥700 to access the sky garden. There are various informative signs around. Interestingly, in 2008, Dorling Kindersley of ‘The Times’ newspaper mentioned that the Umeda Sky Building was among the top 20 buildings in the world, ranking it alongside the Parthenon and the Taj Mahal.

The route up to the sky garden showcases the history of tall buildings from the past, present, and, rather confusingly, the future. There’s information about a sky city in space, accompanied by to-scale models and concept artwork. The sky garden itself provides a complete 360-degree panoramic view of Osaka. Unlike other tall buildings or towers, the sky garden is outdoors, offering unobstructed views without reflective glass to spoil the magnificent scenery.

The strong winds up here feel incredibly refreshing. I snap a few photographs and leisurely stroll around, prolonging the inevitable return via the escalator. Eventually, it’s time to leave. As I traverse the slow-moving escalator steps again, surprisingly, it feels less challenging. I attempt to admire the view through the glass panels but struggle to focus. Descending in the see-through elevator, I decide that I’ve had enough of heights for the day.

My next stop is Osaka Castle. I return to Osaka Station, take the loop line, and reach my destination, another ¥160 fare. Perched on stone and surrounded by moats, Osaka Castle sits at a considerable elevation. As usual, I climb numerous stone steps and finally reach the castle’s exterior. Unfortunately, someone has installed a small elevator and escalators that slightly obstruct the view from one side. Fortunately, I approached from the opposite direction and captured an unspoiled photograph. The castle is like a ‘TARDIS,’ appearing to have five stories on the outside but revealing eight stories inside. Very odd.

After visiting the castle, I take the trains back to Shin-Osaka. Upon reaching the hotel, I collect my key and am pleasantly surprised to receive a breakfast token for the next day—amazing, another free breakfast. Passing some time, I decide to take a short nap. At 6 p.m., I head out for dinner. Earlier, I had researched a nearby place that offers vegan food within walking distance. With my bearings in place, I cross the tracks and turn left at the graffiti

I find the restaurant with ease; it’s right next to Nishinakajimaminamigata Station. I take a seat inside, the only customer. The male owner is very welcoming but doesn’t speak English. A woman with a dog walks in, the owner’s wife. I already knew the restaurant was owned by a middle-aged couple. Independently run, organic, and vegan-friendly—although I’m not a vegan. I point vaguely at the menu, “Yasai,” I say, not quite sure what to expect.

The food looks amazing. As I take out my camera, the man who served me, also the chef, laughs and says, “Douzo,” indicating that I’m welcome to take a photograph. This is the first time I’ve been served brown rice, and its taste oddly reminds me of porridge, much better than the ‘dead’ white rice I’m used to. The main part of my dish puzzles me; it has a texture similar to quiche but without the pastry. It could be tofu, but I’d be very surprised; tofu could never taste this good. I pay just ¥880 for what turned out to be a really nice meal.

After eating, I head back to the hotel for another considerably early night.

O Browser, Where Art Thou?

Posted on 05/08/2014 by Luke

Today, I am leaving Kyoto. However, before I depart, I decide to visit the roof of Kyoto Station, specifically the sky garden known as ‘Happy Terrace.’ It requires ascending nine consecutive escalators to reach the top, where I can admire the breathtaking views of Kyoto for free. As I descend back on the endless escalators towards the train platform, I take a moment to appreciate the roof.

At the platform, a helpful staff member asks if I need any help. I tell him I’m okay and thank him. “Where are you going? Osaka?” he inquires. I nod. He points at the train I’m waiting for, saying, “This one is faster,” seemingly checking off his good deed for the day in his mind. I thank him again and resume waiting for my train. This has happened four times this week in Kyoto—staff members or strangers offering help. I guess I should be more grateful.

At 12 p.m., I board the JR Kyoto Line to Shin-Osaka. The 23-minute train ride costs ¥560. Osaka, the capital of Osaka Prefecture, is Japan’s second-largest metropolitan area. Over one-seventh of the Japanese population lives here, ranking it as the third largest city in Japan by population. I wander around the Osaka area for a while, passing time before I can check into my hotel.

Outside Shin-Osaka Station, I see my first real piece of graffiti:

At 2 p.m., I check in. I’ll be staying in Osaka for three nights. I selected this hotel based on a quote from their website: ‘For warm smiles, fastidious service, and first-class hospitality.’ Interestingly, the hotel also boasts another blatantly inauthentic motto: ‘The happiness of our guests is our happiness.’ The person checking me in hands me a breakfast ticket for a Japanese breakfast tomorrow morning. It’s odd because I don’t recall paying for any breakfast.

I am staying in Shin-Osaka, which Google says is a one-hour walk from Osaka Station. I opt to take the train to Osaka Station and walk back to my hotel, thinking it will be a pleasant way to explore the city. I stayed in Shin-Osaka two years ago, so I am familiar with the area around this station. In Osaka, people walk on the left and stand on the right side of the escalator, unlike almost everywhere else in Japan.

The train ride takes just six minutes with no other stops, and it costs ¥160. Exiting the station, I notice a sign indicating that cycling on the pavement is prohibited. Outside, the temperature is cool, hovering around 25°C, with a gentle rain falling—nothing to worry about, no need for an umbrella. At the foot of the station steps, there’s an outdoor beach volleyball game underway. It’s a Japan Volleyball Association match, likely being filmed, possibly for live television broadcast.

I continue my walk away from the station. To the left, there’s a massive construction site that seems to stretch for several kilometres. On the right, ‘Grand Front Osaka’ stands—a colossal building self-described as a ‘New town in a natural environment.’ Essentially a skyscraper housing numerous shops and restaurants. Adjacent to it, there’s an artificial river that spans the length of the building; it’s not exactly what I’d label a natural environment. However, concrete stepping-stones along the river add a touch of excitement.

I continue my walk through the chaotic Osaka roads. I’m accustomed to cities where streets form a grid-like pattern, always straight and easy to navigate. However, Osaka seems like someone picked it up and gave it a good shake—the city and its streets have turned into a tangled mass of concrete. The roads are chaotic, and the pavements strangely devoid of people. Suddenly, it starts raining hard—nothing to worry about, no need for an umbrella.

Since leaving Osaka Station, I haven’t come across a single convenience store, and I’m in desperate need of buying an umbrella. At this point, a considerable amount of time passes. I spend a good fifteen minutes attempting to reach the bridge that crosses the Yodo River, but inexplicably, an endless train platform obstructs any access. There’s no tunnel beneath it, no bridge over it.

Completely soaked and frustrated, I eventually find the way to the bridge. The rain appears to be intensifying with every step, my shoes now full of water. It takes me another ten minutes to cross the Yodo River. I realise that all I’ve done since this morning is kill time. I have days like this every now and then—nothing happens at all.

As I wander along with my wet clothes and my thoughts, I start to wonder if I’ll even have anything to write about today. Osaka Day One: Nothing Happens. I can already see the title. It’s 5 p.m. when I finally cross the bridge into Juso. A heavy sigh of relief escapes me as I spot, in the distance, the green and white lights of a Family Mart. A second sigh of relief follows at the sight of some neon. However, the path is somewhat spoiled by a single piece of rubbish on the ground.

I purchase an umbrella from Family Mart along with a single banana. Convenience stores appear scarce in this area, but at least I can buy just one banana. Osaka feels like a different country—people here act differently, there’s more litter on the streets, fewer bicycles around, and the locals also speak differently, using their own special dialect.

Drenched from the rain, I stroll down a street named ‘Happy Street,’ feeling as though the sign mocks me as I pass. After making a few turns, I decide to take a rest on a bus stop bench. I estimate that I’ve been walking for about two hours. Consulting the GPS on my camera, I realise I’m close to Nishinakajimaminamigata Station. It’s just one stop away from Shin-Osaka Station, so not much farther to go.

Near the station, the nightlife scene comes alive. Memories flood back as I navigate the interlocking streets filled with restaurants, bars, and neon signs. I decide to check if a bar I fondly remember, called ‘Meets,’ still exists. Finding it easily, I’m disappointed to see it closed today, or perhaps permanently shut down—I can’t discern which. It’s still early, though. Disheartened, I spot a Seven Eleven and opt to purchase a can of 5% Suntory whisky highball. Seven Eleven is the only convenience store I know that sells the 5% can; the other shops only offer the stronger 7% and 9% cans.

Upon returning to the hotel, intending to write about my day, I find that the two computers available in the hotel lobby are relics of the past. One of the machines operates on the Windows 98 operating system with an outdated Internet Explorer as the default browser, bombarding me with messages to update. It prompts for a password whenever I attempt to do anything. I try to download Google Chrome but face the same password requirement. Attempting to write becomes an exercise in patience as the machine’s slowness causes each typed letter to lag about five seconds before appearing on-screen. Frustrated, I abandon the effort and retreat to my room.

Exhausted, I fall asleep before 8 p.m.

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Category Archives: Osaka

Internet Cafes, Bullet Trains, Irish Bars

When Haricot Met Celery

Height of the Lifting Tread

O Browser, Where Art Thou?