Granted this has less to do with the city and more to do with my current state of mind. Which, mind you, only developed once I got here, so maybe... oh whatever.

Yesterday I trundled out to Ashihara-bashi to visit the Osaka Human Rights Museum. It was closed. Instead I got molested by mosquitoes.

I've counted twenty two bites in the brief gap between my jeans and hi-tops and a sprinkling over my forearms. One brazen mozzie even managed to nip me on an eyelid, so that now my left lid refuses to open in it's entirety and is rather puffy to boot.

This coupled with my strained neck that took a pillow bashing from my lumpy mattress last night, which kept me bedridden until early afternoon due to my complete inability to move, which in turn prevented me from travelling to Hiroshima this morning, has allowed a rather dismal state of mind to develop.

Enough bitching. Tomorrow I'm on to greener pastures in Kobe. I'm getting the first train.

nOsaka remains copyright of the author kitschikat, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

Comment on this entry | Tweet this | Your own free travel blog | More Travellerspoint blogs

I took a stroll this afternoon through an alleyway arcade parallel to my hotel that has grimy eateries and dreary looking merchandise. It smelt like all kinds of piss and vomit. Some guy came up to me with a girl hanging off his arm while I was watching a sumo bout playing on the TV through a shop window. He was asking me all these things, and I was shrugging my shoulders saying wakarimasen gomenaci, sorry I don't understand. They were laughing and he persisted talking at me. Finally they walked off, towards their friend who was also laughing. He was making fun, it wasn't hard to spot. Oh well, whatever.

I got into Osaka last night and it is grimy. Nothing like the places I've stayed prior. The streets are quite filthy and although I had been warned that some Japanese have no qualms about spitting in the street, I'd not witnessed it until I came here. There are people spitting all over the joint, one time I had to check myself because I thought I'd actually been spat on. Man it makes me retch when I hear people hocking and I have to quickly distance myself from the impending phlegm ball.

The hotel I'm staying at is depressing. It's a thrilling shade of bland. My room is the size of tinned fish and there is one shower to share among a myriad of guests, who like me, refuse to use the public bath. This pretty much includes all the foreigners. Hopefully getting a shower before noon is not an impossibility and I'll have better luck today.

There's no real common room, so there's not much opportunity to meet other guests, unless you happen to share the excruciatingly slow elevator, during which time you could conceive three children. Maybe if I ride it all night I'll get lucky. There is an internet space with three computers, but it's hardly sufficient.

Thankfully, this last drawback lead me to discover my current situation, which is way cool. I came into Dotombori, a major night life district of Osaka, with the intention of finding the internet cafe I spotted last night. Before I could relocate that place I found Media Cafe Popeye, a 24hr internet, pool hall and ping pong table joint. You can choose from a variety of seating, I chose the reclining chair. I've got my own little cubicle that I can seal off. In it is a TV, safe, foot rest, coat hanger and slippers. The place is quite large and along all the walls run stocks of books, managa comics and movies. Hundreds of them. You can buy noodles, snack food and toiletries. The drinks are free, and they're not shitty either. You've got slurpies and soft drink of every variety. Woo! They even have a vending machine selling hot food (no thanks). So you can eat, drink, smoke and sleep in your own little cubicle (they also have porn magazines and sell mens underwear, so there's also something else you can do in the privacy of your cubicle. EWWW!). They've got soft jazz piping through the place, and except for the occasional snoring neighbour, it's really relaxing. And so much better than my arranged accommodation. I don't care how much it costs, I'm spending the night here.

Oh man, Osaka.. remains copyright of the author kitschikat, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

Comment on this entry | Tweet this | Your own free travel blog | More Travellerspoint blogs

Then he turned his head, and oh my, it was shaved in the exact place where you'd expect a lobotomy to have been performed. Then he turned right around and the same spot on the other side of his head was also sheer. Double whammy. He then proceeded to freak out the entire carriage by continuing to beat the doors and stomp about and mutter. As each station rolled up he stood by the doors in what looked like preparation to alight, but never did. Each station I kept thinking, please please just step off. I wanted to doze the trip japanese style as I was extremely tired, but there was no way I was closing my eyes with this guy about.

Finally, after maybe 5 stops he sat down on the seat opposite mine. The seats ran the length of the train up to each door, one on each side, so I had a very good view. He stuck his hands in his crouch and scratched furiously. The poor old dear next to him was quietly wigging out, with her left hand across her body, clutching at her neck. At this point I had to feign a coughing spasm for the whole scenario suddenly seemed very funny. It wasn't. And nobody laughed.

It certainly wasn't funny when everybody else reached their station and we were left alone.

After some intimate time together, to my relief he got off the the train.

The doorways connecting each carriage were open, so you could walk the length of the train without interruption. Maybe 10 minutes later, the same guy comes tumbling down the carriages, clapping and resumes his former routine in his old spot. We rode the rest of the trip to Nara together.

Poor, poor dude. Still really creepy.

Nara was beautiful, and again I hired a bike to get me about. As I got there kind of late, I only had time to check out two temples, which, though very unfortunate, did mean I didn't exceed my pre-stated temple allotment.

First stop was the Kohfukuji Temple complex which included The Kohfukji National Treasure house. It had an impressive assortment of statues, paintings and books which have been designated important cultural properties.

Next I rode up hill to Todai-Ji Temple, which was magnificent. It's outstanding features are The Great Buddha Hall, which is the largest wooden structure in the world, and contained within it, of course, the Great Buddha, which rates as the largest Bronze statue in the world. It was truly splendid and enough to turn even the most ardent atheist religious. If only for a moment. I hung around for a bit soaking it all up and taking some very average photos before returning the station area to chomp a Teriyaki Mcburger. It was quite disgusting.

Binzuru, loitering outside the Great Buddha Hall

I'd rather have a bottle in front of me remains copyright of the author kitschikat, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

Comment on this entry | Tweet this | Your own free travel blog | More Travellerspoint blogs

My first stop was Tenryu-ji Temple which occupies the space on which the first Zen temple in Japan was built and, since '94 has had the cachet of being a World Cultural Heritage site. It also had a bamboo tunnel. Cool!

Actually, you're pretty spoiled for choice when it comes to World Heritage sites in Kyoto, as the prefecture has a whopping 17 properties included on the prestigious list.

I visited another temple next, Shakado, which isn't on the list but was most accessible given my shit map reading skills. That bought me up to my two-temple-a-day quota and the rest of my afternoon was spent zooming down alleyways and plonking about sidewalk shops.
Near the end I got lured into a Kimono factory on payment of 100 yen. Initially I thought I'd been stung when one of the craftsman tried hard to sell me expensive boogie rags, it was the first time my ignorance of japanese worked in my favour. I just smiled and slowly backed away, bowing. Although good news for trees, the whole concept of a handkerchief is disgusting. But, the place turned out to be quite decent, I was shown the various stages of pattern and colour application to kimono fabric which was interesting.

Back at GHBB I had the good fortune to meet two boys from Oz, Matt & Adam. It was so nice to finally have people to speak with! That they were highly entertaining and offbeat AND had apple flavoured vodka only increased my esteem for both and I'm extremely glad to have met them. Unfortunately that night was their last in Kyoto and so I have now returned to my aphasiac state, more acutely aware of how much I miss speaking with my friends.

Hi guys!

Today I went on a 5hr walking tour of the back streets of Kyoto with the colourful Johnny Hillwalker. 'That's HILLwalker, not Walker'. The tour runs a few times per week and he's been doing it for the past 11 years. I wonder how many times he's made that joke?

Although it must be said, with all those years under his belt, he's been able to refine his commentary to perfection and gave very concise and insightful information on a wide range of cultural peculiarities. The tour avoided the usual tourist hotspots and we were shown around generational workshops of fan makers, prayer bead producers, tea canister manufacturers, tatami mat makers and potters. All of these goods are hand made by families and not mass produced in factories, ensuing high quality and often hefty prices.

He also showed us a geisha school (from the outside) and gave an interesting account of their training and practices. We wondered around their stomping grounds, peering at tea houses, but unfortunately our timing was out and we didn't manage to spot any geisha.

The tour was a great way to learn some interesting cultural characteristics and a very pleasant way to spend a day in Kyoto, though unfortunately, I did manage a couple of grievances;

1. In a group of 30 sweating westerners, all wanting to take the same photo, I hadn't yet felt like such an intrusive foreigner. I would happily have paid more to be in a less imposing number.

2. The little boy who, even before the tour, was complaining that he didn't want to walk. And, who's parents allowed him free rain to interrupt and disrespect the entire length of our course.

As a very sage friend once said: Anybody who takes children under the age of 15 on holiday should be shot.

Bring back the cane remains copyright of the author kitschikat, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

Comment on this entry | Tweet this | Your own free travel blog | More Travellerspoint blogs

Retard.

The cabbie was nice enough not to charge me, obviously aware of my special needs.

Guest House Bola Bola is a quaint little establishment with traditional japanese style tatami sleeping arrangements and ridiculously low arch ways. I feel like an ogre. Not the first time in this country of slender and graceful people.

Today I rode the shinkansen to Kyoto. Maybe it's because I'm inherently oblivious, but we didn't seem to be going exceptionally fast. Maybe it's because I had the aisle seat.

Kyoto station is quite incredible, it's a massive structure with a complicated steel atrium and the most impressive series of staircases I've yet seen. I took the escalators.

Guest House Bola Bola remains copyright of the author kitschikat, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

Comment on this entry | Tweet this | Your own free travel blog | More Travellerspoint blogs

Unfortunately, there is also a sizeable homeless population that take residence in the park and it made for an very uncomfortable experience eating lunch amongst them. I felt terrible.
Aside from that, the weather was very agreeable and conducive to an afternoon of rambling amongst foliage. There were many families with small children, as a colourful market selling all kinds of children's books was set up. If only I could read the language, I would surely have bought a beautifully illustrated book relaying the teachings of Dr King. These kids are smart.

Reiri and friend

Whilst circumventing the lake on which swan seats and row boats were being pushed around by happy children and amorous teenagers, we came upon an arena blasting reggae beats and indecipherable hip hop. It sounded infectious. I wanted to go in, if only to witness the concentration of outlandish costumes these guys get about in. Instead, we went to the Mueseum of Western Art.

After my western cultural enhancement, we took the subway to Kamiyacho to scale the Tokyo Tower. It looks distinctly like the Eiffel Tower and is very popular with domestic tourists. One bus load arriving in a Hello Kitty tour bus, replete with waving kitty kats in pink and a huge plastic kitty at the door to greet boarding and alighting passengers. So so kitsch. (Michelle, I was going to bring it back for you but you said no pink, right?)

After the tower we subwayed ourselves to Shinjuku where we met my Aunty Fusi and another of her friends, Yuka, for yakiniku.
This is a buffet style of meal where you cook your food over a hot grill. There was a refrigerated meat section where you could select from a variety including (of what I could establish) beef, pork, chicken and liver, as well as a buffet table laden with vegetables, salad, fried chicken, spring rolls, chips and desserts. The food was plentiful and delicious and I ate like a hog.

Oishii!

After dinner Reiri and Aunty departed and Yuka and I made our way to Nishi-Azabu, club Yellow to check out Gilles Peterson.

The club from the outside was distinguishable only by a neon yellow sign and to get to the dance floor you had to descend flights of stairs into the basement. We arrived around midnight to a very trendy looking crowd. Beside the stair wells, where many lingered later in the night, there were only two parts to the club (or maybe that's all I saw..?). A front section where drinks were served and tables and a lounge running the length of a mirrored wall accommodated non-dancers. And a darkened back area where the djs gave it up.

Trendy Yuka

Know how there's always one creepy old guy at the club? Same rules apply here. Except, the dude wasn't creepy in the least. He was delightful, drinking and dancing along with everyone else. It was very endearing. Maybe cause he looked like the Japanese equivalent of my dad is why I felt an instant affinity for him. Incredibly, Yuko had previously met him in a club in Shibuya and invited him to sit with us. I had no idea what he was saying but was impressed when told that he had handmade the felt hat he was sporting. Doubly so on hearing that the dude was 76 years old.

Not so creepy old guy. Pump on!

Maybe around 2am Peterson came on. At this point the place was heaving. Many many gaijin, who seemed to be among the only arseholes in the joint. Loud, drunk and rowdy. Same rules apply. To get to the dance floor was a mammoth effort, and almost resulted in a major collapse of bodies. People went crazy when Peterson did the slightest thing and it was exceptionally difficult to groove with people body slamming up against you.

But it was fun. For the most part. I took many photos, only to be told at the end of the night that it wasn't permitted. Oh well, fuck it, I'm a stupid gaijin.

For Krystalla

Ueno Park, Club Yellow remains copyright of the author kitschikat, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

Comment on this entry | Tweet this | Your own free travel blog | More Travellerspoint blogs

After a couple of hours scuffing gravel and scanning hedges I wondered into Ginza, the top end fashion label boutique area, with many expensive stores and some very odd-looking buildings.

Case in point. Awesome.

I'm continuously delighted by the Japanese sense of aesthetics. Damn they have style! Everything is saturated in colour and neon and crazy design, or minimal geometric or natural motifs. I've never been happier to just stare at stuff. Advertisements, vending machines, shop facades, everything. And the people, so many beautiful people and different faces to watch. My visual faculties have never been so stimulated. Time to eat.

The Imperial Palace remains copyright of the author kitschikat, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

Comment on this entry | Tweet this | Your own free travel blog | More Travellerspoint blogs

Highlight for sure was the half-pint holding his own—even after being caught in a headlock for well over a minute—and valiantly coming out the victor. Certainly the longest match of the day. The crowds' response was immediate and overwhelming. Woo!

It's quite a spectacle to witness the vertical leg stretching that is part of the warm-up-psych-out routine. Anyone managing a perfect 180 elicited much applause from the audience (and hushed astonishment on my part. How these guys manage to keep their balance...wow. They couldn't have impressed me more if they'd bent down straight-legged and touched their toes).

(Actually, that's a lie.)

It was also something to see both wrestlers collide and topple over the dohjo into anything that might lay in their path, be it empty seat, ref or fellow sumo (poor dears aren't quite nimble enough to move out the way).

All that palm slapping and pants pulling. Kudos guys.

The rain persisted and I relented, bought an umbrella. For a country with such urban population density, they certainly make big umbrellas. Perhaps it's a method to enforcing personal space. Something that, to my delight, has yet to be rigorously violated.

Biggie Smalls remains copyright of the author kitschikat, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

Comment on this entry | Tweet this | Your own free travel blog | More Travellerspoint blogs

Riding the train this morning from Narita Airport to my hostel in Ueno (once I'd finally figured it), I kept having intermittent flutters of tight tight hotness in my chest, alternating between extreme excitement and severe disorientation.
I'm in Japan. Woo!
Shit, I'm in Japan. What do I do?

...anyone?

A few immediate, though not necessarily well thought-out, observations:

1. It helps to pay attention when walking into a cubicle. Don't assume that every toilet is westernised. As I almost did, you might find yourself with one very soggy sandal.

2. If you want to avoid looking like a tool, try to remember, or relinquish a few yen for, an umbrella. I forgot the first and refused the second. People didn't look too impressed. (This being a country where special plastic sleeves are provided at shop entrances for dripping umbrellas)

3. Don't be an idiot and over pack. Note to future wiser self.

4. Check local english rags, cause that's how I found out Gilles Peterson is playing in Tokyo this Saturday, woo!

5. Hostels suck.

I'll write more when I don't have several huffy europeans sighing in the background wanting to use the computer.

You know, you could just ask...

Konichiwahhhh! remains copyright of the author kitschikat, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

Comment on this entry | Tweet this | Your own free travel blog | More Travellerspoint blogs