• ‘Bum.’ – Unknown Artist, Izumisano, 2022. Tee hee.

I started this writing project to entertain myself and to keep anyone who happens to be interested in my meanderings updated on my progress. I quickly, as with many things in my life, stopped writing, and started doing something else. It’s an odd, frustrating quirk of mine, and one that I hope to conquer one day. Still, this rapid distractability is all part of my dog-like charm, isn’t it? Right?

Anyway, I’m back, so let’s rewind to early November. Ho Chi Minh (nee Saigon). I’m not overly impressed with the city. It’s underwhelming. Well, after Hanoi, it lacks whelm. What it does have, however, is a large Japanese population. This means it has Family Mart, one of Japan’s leading convenience store chains, and Sukiya, one of Japan’s leading gyudon (beef bowl) restaurant chains…

Family Mart – “…one of Japan’s leading convenience store chains…”

Some berk, 2023

Sukiya – “…one of Japan’s leading gyudon (beef bowl) restaurants…”

Some bore, 2023

It even has a ‘Japanese Quarter’ full of hostess bars, where you can indulge in the sensation of being politely mugged by beautiful ladies.

I was due to travel to Cambodia, but after a couple of cans of Asahi, a spicy beef bowl and a ‘£21 for three drinks’ hostess bar bill (trust me, in Vietnam, that is obnoxiously expensive), I rapidly diverted all of my plans East. Well, further East.

I love Osaka. I thought I’d be able to collect my thoughts, get myself together and use the peaceful, tranquil, kooky predictability of Japan to further rebuild myself.

I was horribly, drastically, hilariously wrong. Osaka is a party-hearty city that never sleeps. I love Osaka.

• Silly little elf ears, just buy a mask that fits. No? No...

On arrival at Kansai International Airport, I was accosted by a film crew. They were filming for a long running TV series called, ‘Why Did You Come To Japan?’ As I was one of very few western arrivals, and possibly because of my aura of enigmatic charm, they requested an interview with me.

I attempted some Japanese but I was tired after the journey and very much out of practice, so didn’t do too well and gave up after a while. They asked me many questions including, ‘Why did you come to Japan?’.

The show, which has been running since 2013, consists of collected interviews with visitors from all over the world, and is presented by the famous manzai comedy duo Bananaman, although they were sadly absent.

I wasn’t at my best, only making the crew laugh a handful of times. I also did that thing I do where I babble and say lots of things unrelated to the original question in an attempt to sound interesting, wise and unembarrassed.

They took my details and said they’d be in touch if they used any of the footage. Shows like this usually have a rapid turnaround so I was hopeful for my first Japanese TV appearance to happen whilst I was there, but I have since heard nothing. From minimal research online, they seem to prefer interviewees that reinforce the ‘dumb/zany gaijin(foreigner) stereotype’, as it makes for better TV, so I was either too impressively smart for the show, or too dull. Or both. Stiil, I hold on to the hope that one day, Himura-san and Shitara-san will need some B-roll from the cutting room floor, and will use the chance to mock me for the aging simpleton I am.

Ah. Strong Zero. Nectar of Gods. Anathema of Titans. Soothing succour to the parched perambulator. Bringer of Hangovers. Consumer of Souls.

It is both my favourite convenience store beverage, and my sworn nemesis. It’s half the price of beer. It’s 9%. It tastes like a soft drink with a splash of paint thinner added. A couple of these and you’re good to go. The wise choice would be to have one, perhaps two, and then leave it at that. Of course, the alchemy contained within casts it spell and before you know it, it’s 10am the next day and you’re fully clothed in a capsule room being prodded by an angry yet polite young man who needs to clean the capsule that your fetid bear-carcass body is still violating, ten minutes past check-out (more on that later).

• It’s the preferred beverage of Miyachi, and many of his interviewees, in the truly excellent Konbini Confessions series. It’s a glorious peek into what makes nights out in Japan so ludicrously enjoyable.

The affordability is an interesting point (if Japanese alcohol regulation and relative pricing structures are your bag). Japan has a typically convoluted ‘beer tax’ system. Unlike most countries, which tax beverages based on ABV, works based on the amount of malt used in the brewing process. Consequently, a 500ml can of 5% Asahi that is comparatively good for you (I said ‘comparatively’) is £2.50 – £3, whereas a 500ml can of this utter poison is about £1.30.

We’re not here to discuss my life choices, we’ll do that later, but what is interesting is that this system has led to the creation of ‘Happoshu’, a beer-like sparkling alcoholic beverage, which uses less malt in the brewing process and so sidesteps the tax system. It tastes mostly like beer, is advertised in the same way as beer, has the same ABV and does exactly the same job as beer, but costs half the price. In short, bad beer cheap, good beer… uncheap.

• A big Billy big beer or lovely real beer from Asahitei, Izumisano (2-21 Asahicho, Izumisano 598-0052 Osaka Prefecture). Serving beer in a glass fresh out of the freezer is commonplace in Japan and should be enshrined in law everywhere else.

I stayed in a small city about 40km south of Osaka itself, called Izumisano, for the entirety of my three weeks in Osaka prefecture. A curious place, you’ll find out all about it soon, but one thing that was predictably infuriating was the complete lack of anywhere to just stop and enjoy something.

• Izumisano, 2 o’clock in the afternoon. Notice how no one is anywhere or enjoying anything.

I know that the Japanese tend not to eat whilst walking or eat whilst standing or eat whilst sitting and that’s great, but in the larger cities these rules are pretty lax and people mostly just do what they want, albeit still within finely ordered societal boundaries. It’s a feature that would drive many people mad were they to spend too long here.

Izumisano is different. It’s small. So small, most of the working or school-age population seem to disappear completely for the majority of the day. And the majority of the night. Basically, it’s perpetually really, really quiet.

• A terrible photo of Izumisano station from what architects might call the ‘Fancy Pants Aspect’. A bit more action here.

I perched myself on a bike rack, for there was nowhere else to perch, and took a moment, tired from my journey and from carrying my hefty luggage on my shoulders. The sun was beating down and I felt I deserved a rest. I even tucked myself around the corner, well away from the door and away from the car park.

A little old lady shuffled along the path towards me, and then took a huge, arcing detour, maintaining a minimum of four metres distance between us, looping around me before rejoining the path once again.

‘Chikan,’ she muttered to herself.

My Japanese was very rusty at this point, rustier than usual, but I knew this was not a friendly bit of neighbourly small talk. It was outwardly hostile. I pulled out my phone and checked the term.

‘chikan – (noun) masher, molester, pervert’

Ach, come on, I’ve been here for little over an hour and already I’m getting slandered by the elderly for being a savage foreign predator. Admittedly, I am drinking a 9% sparkling alcoholic beverage in the middle of the day, and wearing shorts, and I’m somewhat sweaty from the journey and the heat, and I’m 6’3, and I’m perched on a bike rack, and I don’t have a mask on, because I’m having a drink, but…

And at that moment I reminded myself that Japan had only been truly open to tourists for one month. In the three weeks that were to follow, I would see three ‘westerners’, and, on top of that, very little reason why any regular tourist would choose Izumisano as a holiday destination, so even pre-pandemic I would have still been a massive, gallumpfing curio. Two years and several months after that grim beginning and now here I am, possibly the first western face she’s seen since early 2020, all bearded, sweating, grimacing, slurping on chu-hai and generally just being a big, oafish bore all over the place.

Thus began a long and confusing rollercoaster of emotions as I tried to rationalise and overcome the even-more-exagerrated-than-usual caution and possible mistrust of ‘gaijin’ that occurs, particularly with older generations, in almost every city, town and village outside of Japan’s tourist districts.

I felt bad. So, I finished my drink and made my way to the guest house. I had already soiled myself and I hadn’t even checked in. It was time to be thoughtful, to reflect on the past few weeks and to begin the steady process, once more, of rebuilding myself anew.

The sun was shining, the breeze was fresh, and I was in my favourite country in the world. Everything would be just fine.

• Everything would absolutely NOT be ‘just fine’. I was mere hours away from Terrible Choices™.

Part 2, coming soon!