Alone in Kyoto and a bit of naturism.

Kinkakuji - Golden Temple, Kyoto.

The train from Osaka to Kyoto took about twenty minutes, and there was barely a break in the urbanism between the two. I arrived in Japan's old capital in mid afternoon, and once I'd dropped my stuff off at the hostel I went for an explore of my surroundings in the late afternoon humidity. I walked along the busy Shijo Dori, a bustling street filled with shops and restaurants, and everlasting arcades spanned off in both directions. I'd seen on a map a park and temple area only a short walk away, so decided to head there; after all, the main reason tourists visit Kyoto is for the abundance of temples.

I arrived at some sort of temple, sat in the front of the park, but it left me fairly unimpressed. I'm not sure what I was expecting or what I demand for entertainment these days, but it barely held my attention for more than a minute before I was pacing off into the park. The last drops of daylight were incredibly humid, and I was soaked as I decided to follow a trail up the hill and into vegetation. I climbed a fair way and my hard work was rewarded with a small view over the city, but the flat fading light didn't make the city sparkle. I found myself in a small cemetery up on the hill, and I was unsure if people were buried there, or it was a place for cremation and remembrance. The tombs were incredibly close together, all on top of each other, and there were lots of wooden ski-like planks with writing on on each crypt, but I am yet to find out what these are. On the climb back down I came across a small waterfall and took a long exposure whilst mosquitos feasted on my blood, before walking back to my neighbourhood for a quiet evening socialising with some Americans. 

Shijo Dori, Kyoto.

Dark clouds gather over Kyoto.

The first temple I came across.

View over Kyoto.

The crowded cemetery.

Waterfall in the park

Man powered rickshaw.

The following day I was finally ready to head out by lunch time, I've never been a morning person. I decided to walk to the Golden Temple, also known as Kinkakuji, as it didn't look too far or complicated to get to, and I like walking across cities because you never know what you'll discover along the way. Kyoto didn't offer up too much though. It seemed to be built on a grid system, which made navigation easy, but most avenues and back alleys looked the same. The day was grey so maybe this made everything else look grey, but all the colours felt desaturated and the architecture had almost nothing to say. The city felt safe and functional but it seemed to lack an edge, but people had told me Kyoto wasn't the most exciting city, it was really only worth checking out for the number of different temples. 

As soon as I arrived at the gates of the Golden Temple, the dark clouds that had been brooding overhead unleashed their heavy load. I'd left the hostel without a coat or umbrella, so sat under a shelter for thirty minutes and watched hordes of visitors gripping umbrellas go through the gate. There were three men employed to direct people where to go, from the ticket office all the way to the entrance kiosk 10 metres away. To me their job seemed completely unnecessary, and would never be funded at home. I'd seen plenty of positions like this, their only function to micro-manage social order. I'd seen uniformed men on the subway stood ushering commuters to the left, and this superfluous position annoyed me slightly; what if I wanted to walk on the right?

I waited until the heavy rain subsided to a manageable drizzle before venturing into the park the temple was situated in. The temple itself was a pretty sight; a shining bright golden pagoda sat on the edge of a picturesque lake. It was a shame the rain still fell, and sunlight didn't polish the gold. Had the light been better and the lake undisturbed so it mirrored the temple, I feel it would have been twice as spectacular, I could see the potential but lady luck was not with me on this day. 

I followed the route through the site and upon exiting decided to head to another series of temples the other side of the city. Rain was still falling and my cotton clothes were becoming heavy with damp. The air was so thick with humidity that having gills may have been an advantage. I'd also misjudged the scale of the city, and was halfway to my second destination when I realised it would be closed by the time I arrived, so adjusted my route to head home. I managed to buy an umbrella just as the rain was easing, and stopped for some sukiya lunch, a bit of a Japanese curry type thing, before arriving back at the hostel at dusk.

Walking through Kyoto.

Visitors enter the temple as I wait for the rain to fade. 

Micro managing society, giving unnecessary directions. 

The Golden Temple.

The following day I met up with Yuma, the Japanese guy I had met on the boat from Shanghai and toured the seedy underbelly of Osaka with. He had invited me to stay with him in his university town of Shiga, another twenty minute train ride from Kyoto. We met at lunch time at Kyoto station, and after I'd dropped my bags off in his studio apartment we headed for Lake Biwa. He'd mentioned hiring a boat or jet skis and said he would treat me. Japanese people seem to be incredibly generous, but I couldn't let him pay for this as I knew it would be expensive, and I'd be happy to just swim in the lake which would be free.

Taking the train from Kyoto with Yuma.

We took the train to the opposite shore of the lake from Shiga, and we were pretty much in the countryside, only a few quiet houses were visible from the train, and huge green hills rose above these and looked down on the lake. We spent the afternoon swimming in the lake. It was both warm and crystal clear, it felt cleaner than a swimming pool and small fish idly swam amongst our feet. We'd brought a couple of beers with us, and enjoyed them in the sun whilst listening to music and casually watching some attractive girls sun themselves on the shore. We went in the water again and swam until the warm September sun sank below the smokey hills and the houses and fields were coated in lavender hues.

Looking towards the hills which surround the lake - taken on Yuma's iPhone 4 as I left my camera behind.

Lake Biwa - taken on the iPhone.

The sun starts to sink behind the hills - taken on the iPhone, a bloody good camera for a phone.

We boarded a train and headed for an 'onsen', a Japanese hot spring and kind of leisure centre. We'd been given some robes to wear upon arrival, so went to the changing room and slipped on my new attire. They were a bit like a beige, baggy, three quarter length pyjama, and I felt like a member of a cult as everyone was in the same outfit. We took a meal in the restaurant as soon as we changed as both of us were starving, and cleared our plates and bowls in minutes. The centre itself was huge, and walking through I could see there were plenty of different activities, as well as restaurants scattered throughout. There were libraries of manga books, an internet cafe in which most websites seemed to be blocked, and huge lounges with chairs all facing the same way, that looked like they were from the first class section of a flight and had individual flat screens. I'd found some massage chairs, which you sunk into and trustingly placed your limbs in some padded folds. It was operated with a remote control, I chose my setting and relaxed. Actually, it was really enjoyable, the robot chair pushed and squeezed my muscles, and at times shook and vibrated like a space shuttle ready for launch. The chair helped me drift into the soft depths of my imagination, and the movement of it sent ripples through my thoughts, like a pebble plopped into the pool of consciousness. I wondered for a second if I'd been slipped some hallucinogens, but I realised it was all the workings of the chair. I looked back at the remote to see how skilled this robot really was. I was disappointed to discover there was no happy ending button.

We then headed to the main part of the onsen, the hot springs. To do this we had to strip down to our birthday suit, and although public nudity is not commonplace in the UK, I was in Japan and onsen is a cultural institution. I wasn't fazed by the nudity at all, and was put even more at ease upon discovering the rumour about Japanese men and their appendages is generally true. In the kingdom of the blind, the one eyed man is king. In this Japanese onsen, my one eyed snake was king. Well, it was at least aristocracy. Once I'd stopped looking at middle aged businessmen's dicks, I entered the various hot pools. Each one had a different offering; some were like jacuzzis with jets of bubbles, others were just nice and hot and we sat around in it watching the tv for a while. One pool had seats which gave you a challenging electric shock. I wasn't expecting it and as soon as I plonked my arse down in the corner I felt my ribcage twitch and spasm and a strange sensation, just into the territories of unpleasantness, spread across my body. For a split second I wondered if I was having a heart attack, before realising I was experiencing an electric shock. A friend had told me about the goings on at an onsen, and how you could be electrocuted, now I knew what he meant. I forced myself to stay in the reaches of the shock, I found it quite uncomfortable but unusual enough to persevere with; the only electric shock I'd experienced before was gripping sheep wire as a kid. This was much more powerful. Another minute and I would have confessed to crimes I'd never committed. My face grimaced and I let out strange yelps as I insisted I remain for as long as I could stand. Yuma just laughed and watched from the safe part of the pool. After we visited the sauna, which was as hot and humid as I'd ever experienced, and we could only last five minutes before escaping for the gasp-inducing cold pool. We later got showered and changed and spent the rest of the evening relaxing in the dry facilities, such as watching tv and dozing, before catching the last train home. I really enjoyed the onsen, it was great to visit something very Japanese and experience the typical leisure activities of the locals, something I wouldn't have been able to do without my Japanese friend.

Yuma on the roof of his student accommodation.

Yuma in his room.

Exploring Osaka

A heavy thunderstorm kept me holed up in my room one evening.

The day following my excursion into the sordid underbelly of Osaka was lost to largely my laptop and a bit of lethargy. The morning after I had to move hostels, but there was a five hour gap between checking out of one and checking into the other, so I was destined to lose most of the day. I went and got my hair cut. I gestured I wanted it shaved but couldn't be much more specific, and ended up with the shortest shave I've ever had. Afterwards I had some time to kill, and so I played some more pinball and also went in one of the many games arcades. Many of the machines I recognised from cinemas and bowling alleys at home, and I spent a couple of quid shooting up some relentless zombies for a bit. Once I'd checked into my new hostel I planned to explore the neighbourhood, but the heavens opened and I was held captive by the dramatic downpour for a few hours, the only plus being I was treated to an impressive lightning display outside my window. Later on that evening the rain ceased so I could go for a wander around the dampened alleyways of where I was staying, before doing some laundry on the roof of the hostel, which had some alright views across Osaka. I spent the dregs of the night talking to two German guys who were also guests at the hostel, and for once I declined an offer to go out on the town. 

Views across Osaka at night from Momodami.

Sleeping apartments.

Many narrow alleys.

The day after the rains came was my final full day in Osaka, so I had to make the most of it. I still didn't make it out until lunch time, but six hot afternoon hours is long enough for me to be walking around an unknown city. I'd done a little bit of research and decided I wanted to visit Osaka Castle and a couple of vibrant neighbourhoods, which are more famous for their nightlife but still had plenty to offer during the day. Navigating the subway and train network was much more difficult than Moscow, the metro system which had challenged me at the beginning of my journey. I really had to concentrate and my brain whirred in ways not known since sitting my Eleven Plus. I passed this test too however, and ended up where I had intended to go. 

Osaka Castle is situated in a large park area, and on my way in I walked past some kids playing baseball, which seems to be a really popular sport here in Japan. There was also quite a lot of live music. Young, probably school-age bands were performing along a promenade, and I spent five pleasant minutes listening to them as I made my way towards the castle.

Young rock bands perform to the public.

A huge moat surrounded the castle, and from here I caught my first glimpse of the impressive tower. Within five minutes I had bought my ticket and was making my way inside the Imperial looking stronghold. It wasn't until I was inside that I realised the entire thing was as modern as a shopping mall, with a lift taking tourists up through the middle of the building to the highest and fifth floor, and mock-marble and chrome banistered staircases winding up alongside it. Post-visit research reveals that it was all restored in 1997, and the interior was intended to be modern and function as a museum. The castle, originally built in the 16th century, has been destroyed and rebuilt many times during the course of it's life - the last time it was badly damaged was in 1945 during bombing raids. The museum spanned several floors and was fairly interesting, but some displays consisted purely of photographs of things like statues, which are boring enough to look upon in real life, never mind in photos. It lacked artefacts, I like to see history more than I like to read about it when I'm visiting a site like this, and there were no good cabinets of weapons for me to choose my armaments for imaginary battles. There were plenty of illustrations which seemed to mostly date from the 19th century and told the story of the battles that had occurred here. These were actually quite enjoyable, they were very bright and drawn in a way that really reminded me of comics and graphic novels, both in the layout and graphic style. Perhaps Manga has it's origins in these 150 year old depictions. The top floor of the castle provides a panoramic view of Osaka, and I circumnavigated the restored ramparts before descending back into the park below.

A huge moat separates the castle from the park.

Osaka Castle 

Crossing the moat

One of the 19th century illustrations.

Views out across Osaka

I stumbled across this ceremony in a temple on the way out - I think it was a wedding.

After exiting the park I made my way via subway to the neighbourhoods of Namba and Dotonburi, both former pleasure districts and today house many shops, bars and restaurants. Incredibly long shopping arcades seem to be the norm in Japan, and many stretched out through these neighbourhoods like canals of consumption. I enjoyed drifting through them, the people flowed like rivers and I felt like I was sat on a rubber ring floating along and taking it all in. The people of Japan are not only incredibly polite, but also very stylish and fashion conscious. Many of the trends would be unrecognised at home and some viewed as downright bizarre, but this is a relatively alien society to me with it's own different subcultures and tastes. Even if to my foreign eyes some of the identities subscribed to seem strange, there's no denying that the Japanese are cool, in their own way of course. Some of the men sport huge haircuts, like a steam-punk version of the 1980s, that even our own Russell Brand may find too flamboyant. The women dress well too and are quite attractive to boot. It seems that somewhere along evolution's lines bust size has been traded for creamy thighs and dreamy eyes, and my head was turned a good number of times.

One of the many long shopping arcades filled with people.

I'd come across a dish in my research that was renowned as Osaka's main delicacy - Octopus balls, and I wanted to try them. Known locally as Takoyaki, many places were dedicated to serving these profiterole sized snacks and I bought mine in a side street away from the queues. The balls are largely made of a type of batter, filled with chunks of octopus, brushed with a sauce and sprinkled with dried seaweed. They tasted alright, but mine were straight out of the pan and rather hot and gooey inside. They were a bit like an undercooked and fishy yorkshire pudding, with rubbery chewy chunks of octopus leg inside; they were better than they sound even though I couldn't eat all six. 

Takoyaki - octopus balls.

A shopping street in Dotonburi - the octopus on the right marks a Takoyaki store.

The canal in Dotonburi

Something Japanese.

I walked for a while down different streets and through various shopping arcades, it seemed to never end and it felt like all of Osaka were out on this Sunday afternoon. I went into a musical instrument shop, the best I have ever been in, and spent a while picking out which guitar I would like. There was a specially crafted acoustic guitar retailing for £20,000, it had a big mother of pearl tiger on it in a Japanese garden scene, but this wasn't one I would have chosen. In many of the food outlets and convenience stores the staff are so attentive and diligent in their duties. I enjoyed listening to them even if I couldn't understand a word of what they were saying. They sounded like mopeds revving through the gears; a series of quick and high pitched syllables before a long, drawn out and rising syllable, repeated over and over again. Even when just simply buying a drink, the transaction is filled with chatter and smiles and a bowing of the head. 

Shoppers in the arcades.

A tiny fragment of the huge music store.

Quieter side streets.

This area is the place to be once night falls, apparently.

Sunset canal.

After six hours on my feet in 30 degree heat, I decided to head back to my hostel. I'd enjoyed what I'd seen of Osaka, even if I hadn't made the most productive use of my days here. I'd only explored a tiny fraction of Japan's second city, but it seemed a cool and vibrant place with lots going on and plenty to do.

Taking the train back to the hostel.

On a slow boat from China...Shanghai to Osaka

I was up early on a bright yellow morning in Shanghai. I'd barely had a minutes sleep, a combination of excitement and knowing I had to get up early without mistake resulted in an inability to drift off into my dreams. Doubled with the fact I'm carrying a chest infection, which sounded like gravel in a biscuit tin when I drew breath, and felt like I had a colony of bats roosting in my chest cavity, it proved impossible  to slip from consciousness. I paced from the hostel to the metro with red-eye, and got off at the closest station to the ferry terminal, but I was still about a kilometre away with 45 minutes to spare. I thought I could walk as a last resort, despite the lack of a proper map, but tried to get a lift. The first taxi eventually understood my simple request of where to go, but he decided it wasn't in his interests to drive the short distance and make some money. I really don't understand China's taxis. I don't think Chinese taxi drivers understand the concept of taxis - they seem to think they're bus drivers who are reluctant to accept passengers. I found a motorcycle rickshaw who was happy to accept my custom, and I sat on a rickety bench facing backwards as the small vehicle rattled towards the port. 

Checking in proved to be easy. I'd only made a reservation online a few weeks previously and hadn't yet paid anything, but I gave my name at a desk and handed over my money and in return was handed my ticket, and pointed in the direction to head. I sailed through security and passport control and was quickly on a shuttle bus to drive us the 50 metres to the ship. Once onboard, after the briefest of explores, I decided to sod looking out the window as we departed a mid-morning Shanghai in favour of testing out the bed. The bed passed all tests and I slept until after lunch. 

Once up I went for a bit more of an explore of the ship. It wasn't that big. It had three accessible floors; my cabin, which I shared with two Japanese students was on the ground floor, if such a thing exists at sea. Also on this floor was the reception area and a lounge with a tv which showed movies, some in English, and episodes of Mr Bean, which the Chinese lapped up like it was still 1992. The middle floor had the restaurants and a small shop, as well as other cabins, and the top floor seemed to be the first class rooms. On my explore I came across a young French family, the only other foreigners aboard. They were travelling for a year with their two young children; and we chatted for a while and would continue to exchange pleasantries for the remainder of the voyage. 

On the top deck. 

 Table tennis aboard the ship.

I hadn't realised that Japan uses a different electrical socket to China and to the adapter I had, so I was laptopless and was left with catching up with my journal (I'm still only halfway through China) and reading some of Jack Kerouac's On The Road. I took dinner in the restaurant that evening with my literature, eating a beef curry severely lacking in beef, but it filled a hole. That evening I got chatting to Yuma, one of the Japanese students in my room. He was moneyless having had his money and phone stolen by a prostitute somewhere along the way, and had sold his watch on the street in Shanghai to get enough money to buy instant noodles and snacks for the journey. I bought him a beer from the vending machine, and then a couple more as we chatted into the early hours, and he wrote down a fair few tips for Japan and words and phrases in the back of my journal; a personal four page Lonely Planet. 

The view from the restaurant.

The following day I got up late morning and we were already passing some Japanese islands.Yesterday's East China Sea, the colour of a stale latte, had been transformed into a cleaner and deeper navy blue. I'd never really thought about it but I was surprised by how many islands there were, many uninhabited, some with settlements, strewn out across the sea as we sailed towards Japan. They all looked exotic and lush as they burst out of the water, I felt the excitement for travel rush through my veins and I wanted to yell across the waves. I spent a little while out on deck gazing at the islands as they drifted by, and enjoyed watching some flying fish dart away from the wake of our bow. 

Japanese islands.

Flying fish.

That afternoon was lost to my laptop. The other Japanese student in my room had a Mac also so I borrowed his charger until we docked in Osaka. There was somehow intermittent wifi available so I was able to feed my internet addiction and in between I watched episodes of the Sopranos. I would have to find another electricity-less opportunity to catch up with my journal.

That evening I spent time with some of the Japanese on the boat. There were more Chinese but the Japanese were more social and I seem to prefer them. They're my favourite people in Asia so far, very polite and generous, and much easier to get along with, we must be culturally more similar - they just seem to be cooler than their neighbours. The Germans have probably been my favourite Europeans on this trip, again very social, generous and cool. It's odd to think that two generations ago we would have been murdering each other, now we just kill time together. 

Out on deck the sea air was warm and bright lights shone from the shore as we made our way past unknown towns and cities. At one point we passed under a huge bridge, a little reminiscent of the Golden Gate Bridge, and you could hear the traffic rumble on the road which temporarily spanned above us. At our closest point to land, I was sure I could hear the buzz of crickets which sing every night in these climes. My favourite night time phenomenon was watching the hallucinogenic neon blue of the phosphorescent plankton glow as the bow of our vessel cut through the water. This was quite mesmerising and exciting to see - it suggested I was somewhere far flung - you don't see this on Dover to Calais. 

Japanese coastal cities.

Sailing under a large bridge.

The luminescent plankton.

I settled down in my bunk for the final night, a little disappointed that the journey was coming to an end already; I've been enjoying the physical travelling as much as the cultural travelling so far, certainly for relaxation. When you're on a train or a boat for a few days, it's nice to have no responsibilities, no need to be up or be anywhere, nothing to really do except pursue your own immediate and simple idleness and leisure. It's something I could certainly get used to. 

The following morning we arrived in Osaka and our temperatures were taken with a laser against the forehead, as they had been taken in Shanghai, to check we weren't importing any illnesses into the islands. I was pleased to have made it from the UK to Japan without taking any aeroplanes, and this was the furthest east I had ever been. I was also filled with the usual excitement of arriving somewhere new and alien. I took the subway with three Japanese ferry friends, and we went to central Osaka to eat some food, we had something called 'sukiya' which is apparently very popular and beef based. I had some rice, a chilli-curry type sauce, in which there may have been some beef, but there was plenty of melted grated cheese and I cleared the plate within a minute. One of the Japanese travellers left us, a 35 year old hippy who seemed to idolise Jimmy Hendrix and was clearly a stoner of epic proportions, and the other two escorted me without my asking to a department store where I could buy an adapter for my electronics. Afterwards I was left with just Yuma, who wanted to come and spend the day with me and check out Nishinari, the neighbourhood I was staying in. The stoner had told me I had to visit Nishinari whilst in Osaka, it was the rough part of town which housed the red light district as well as countless homeless people - it sounded like Kings Cross from when I used to live around there. He was delighted and whooped with joy when I told him that by accident or fortune, this was the neighbourhood my hostel was in. 

The port of Osaka.

Downtown Osaka.

Friends from the boat.

I checked into my hostel and off we went to explore the neighbourhood. First we popped into a slot machine casino hall which was a cacaphony of bleeps, jingling coins and the hum of machines. Yuma lost a few quid on a fruit machine type thing and we left. We popped into a pinball hall, and had half an hour on the machines for £2. At one point I'd won enough balls to trade them for a low end prize, such as a stale looking packet of biscuits, but intended to gamble for a big prize, like a stuffed teddy, but it was downhill from here and I lost my balls. Pinballs, that is. It was too much of the other balls which made me lose all my pinballs. 

Shopping streets in Nishinari.

Yuma in the slot machine place.

The fruit machine entertainment places seem to be very popular.

We went up the Tsutenkaku tower, a 100 year old observation tower which offered good views of Osaka. There were so many things on the way up to waste money on, offerings to a some good luck God called Billiken which Wikipedia informs me was an American invention and exported to Japan. His image is everywhere and appears to be some kind of deity, but one heavily commercialised - although which deity isn't, at least there's no denying the blatant exploitation of this one. 

The Tsutenkaku tower.

Views over Osaka.

Yuma and I with the good luck God.

Yuma had wanted to visit the homeless area of Nishinari and asked people for directions. The Japanese seem to have a different attitude towards the social phenomena of homelessness than we do back home. No one batted an eyelid that he was asking where to find it, whereas at home it may have come across a bit odd. They seemed to have a strange curiosity towards homelessness, maybe it's such an usual concept in Japan that it can become an acceptable tourist attraction to observe. It certainly didn't seem to be treated with the same sympathetic disdain that we offer at home. 

We wandered into the down and out area, and it was surprising to see the huge number of homeless people living here. Whole yards of tramp shacks had been erected, and old men sat out with dogs and booze idling away the day. Many others went through the streets, going about whatever business they had, but the majority of people here appeared to be in the lowest economic strata. I must've been in one of the poorest neighbourhoods of one of the richest nations - an unusual first day. 

Homeless men in Nishinari.

Nishinari streets.

A too frequent sight - this mans hair was so matted it looked like the carpet from a footwell of a car.

Nobody seemed bothered by our presence, and we spent a while exploring the piss smelling streets. There are many cheap apartments and hostels which can house people who have access to a little bit of money, all half the price of my cheap hostel, but I was told many of them are mafia run and crime gangs sponge off the homeless people's welfare with the silent approval of the police. We stopped to watch when a rat in a cage was produced and given to a homeless man. I mistakenly thought, although it had been suggested to me, that it was going to be his dinner. A bucket of water appeared and the caged rodent was sunk under the surface until it drowned. I was relieved to see the rat put in a bin rather than on a plate, but thought there must be easier and maybe more humane ways to kill a rat. At least there's no blood with drowning, I guess.

Two men one rat.

A drowning rat takes its last breath.

There are lots of public bathrooms for the homeless. The posters on the left are job advertisements.

We continued walking and the afternoon continued along it's seedy trajectory. Yuma stopped at an adult bookstore and bought two porno magazines which he said were a present for a friend. There was no attempt to hide the publications from any innocent eyes of the public, attitudes seem to be different here. It reminded me of something in China which I forgot to mention. Although it seems to be more conservative in some ways with regard to sex, I noticed at the counter of one convenience store, nestled up to the chewing gum rack a row of boxed dildos - you'd never find that in a Spar at home. Yuma showed me his purchases and they confirmed what I previously thought about Japan, all people have pixelated and blacked out genitals. Either that or tighter censorship laws. I gave him the names of a number of websites that he might enjoy and he seemed delighted with the information. 

We stopped in a dusty and run down looking place to eat some shaved ice flavoured with syrup. We ended up eating dinner there. The owner was a 65 year old woman, really friendly and inquisitive with kind eyes. We ate a nice cooked fish and a bowl of rice, and then ate some sashimi, raw fish, which is nice with a little soy and wasabi, washed down with some Asahi, so long as I don't dwell on the thought. The food was good and it was a nice experience to eat in a place that was very local and something I wouldn't normally consider venturing into if on my own. 

The lady who served us dinner.

Sunset streets.

Beer is available in vending machines on the street - great idea.

When we left evening was falling and we headed towards the red light district, one of the biggest in Japan. It should be called the 'white lantern district', as these signify the knocking shops. Quite a few blocks were designated to the sex industry, and mostly beautiful girls sat like weird dolls in open fronted establishments, and the vast majority were genuinely beautiful and enticingly attractive, not like the crack-whores stumbling the streets at home. The girls were accompanied by an older woman who I guess oversaw the business, and at something like $150 for 15 minutes it must be quite a business. I was only there as a curious onlooker, not as a sex tourist so the price was irrelevant but thankfully a stumbling block to any temptations. Yuma was tempted but if he spent his money he didn't have another watch to sell to pay for his train ride home, so kept his wallet in his pocket.  It was interesting to walk around and for some reason it didn't feel too seedy, it was presented like an acceptable business and the girls were jaw-droppingly hot, but this only disguised what it really was, and the questionable morality of it is certainly debatable but maybe not easily defendable. That said, the girls seemed to be here voluntarily, and I did ask Yuma this which he confirmed. At $600 an hour it must be a tempting occupation for some, and who can moralise over someone else's free will that doesn't hurt anybody else? Anyway, after a good gawping walk, we left the neighbourhood before we got dick-ache and headed back to my hostel, where Yuma had left his bags. I'd had a good and interesting day with him and enjoyed his company. It'd been a seedy afternoon of gambling, homelessness, pornography and prostitution, but this was much more a reflection of the neighbourhood than my company, and my friend was as much a tourist here as I was. Nevertheless it had been a good if unexpected introduction to Japan, and I'm sure things will take a more respectable turn from here.