I’m currently based in a less than salubrious location of Osaka. I love it – it’s different to Horia Park and I am able to see behind the facade. The men with their white wellies, the homeless, those being nabbed by the cops (literally) and the gnarliest faces whose jaws drop when they see a chain smoking gaijin skittering about.
Yesterday after a day spent riding around AmerikaMura, Horia Park and that Dom place, I farewelled the shy Isao and went exploring the “cloudy” tiny streets in search of a place to eat. Doors were closed on me, men urinated on the street, stares bored through me and the odd insult was spat out that I thankfully couldn’t understand.
After quickly phoning the Seagull (a series of silly noises passes for communication), I retreated back to my lovely tatami and napped. Though it was warm, I was desperate for hearty food and stepped out with some trepidation.
I came across a little nondescript shop and stepped inside. It was as though it had been transplanted from the 40s. Counters warm with the dirty patina of food and business, radio blaring some sports broadcast, a rusty bakelite rotary dial phone and locals enjoying their dinner. I stepped in and pointed at what some hulking old man was eating and tried my cutest smile. “Kudasai?”
They were the very definition of adorable. The lady brought out beef and lit my little grill and our communication consisted solely of giggles, smiles and bows. It was delicious. After, I had kim chi and learned a new definition of hotness that spread through me, requiring many sips of the recommended Kirin. She and her partner (a man resplendent in fatigues, apron and white wellies) took it in turns to come up to me and smile and giggle making the universal sign of spicy.
I must have done well, or at least entertainingly as they brought me iced tea, lollies and bags of chocolate between bites. I tottered back to the hotel with my stash feeling giddy.
So I’m having chocolate for breakfast before heading to Kyoto.
Amy Gray | Pesky Feminist 
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