The Osaka airport was really nice. The escalators spoke to us, saying helpful things like 'please hold onto the handrail'. (The lift also spoke to us, but I've no idea what it said.) When we had ATM troubles, the info counter operator was there for us. She was also wearing a particularly fabulous uniform: yellow skirt suit with brown trim topped with a brown felt 20s-style cloche hat. I want. If the supermarket had dressed me like that back in the day, I'd probably still be scanning your groceries.
Having just left Beijing, which is not what I'd call replete with natural beauty, Osaka hit like a Monet to the face. It made me start churning out awful stuff about pink-edged lilac clouds and glistening seas. I asked Maddy how she'd describe the colours of the sky: 'Blue'. Fair enough. Add 'purply-pink' and I think we've got it nailed. The traditional Japanese colour palette suddenly makes a whole lot of sense. Call it a symptom of last night's sleeplessness or the immediate contrast with urban China, but Japan glazed my eyes with a visual balm.
To be completely honest, we only saw about 2% of the immediate area around Fukushima Station before leaving for Mount Koya. Osaka remains highly explorable via day trip from Kyoto. We saw, in essence, a single street. Fortunately, that single street was lined with the sorts of restaurants too classy for katakana. Time for Maddy and I to display our Japanese language skills. ... ...!
Our restaurant of choice had a single brand of customer: businessman. We broke the mold a little. We also suffered from a complete inability to verbally communicate with the staff. With much pointing at menu pictures, we eventually managed to order sushimi, soba noodles, tempura prawns and hot sake. Raw fish has always scared me but I resolved to eat everything, because Japan! Verdict: very very tasty. Even the mysterious chewy one. Dad, be proud.
And then Maddy disgraced us both by loudly breaking a chopstick. Right in half! And this wasn't a cheap disposable set, mind you. I almost died laughing. I'm pretty sure the dozens of watching businessmen found it quite as funny. Oh dear. And we'd been fitting in so well.
Maddy would probably like to add here that soon afterwards I had a massive chopstick fumble myself. But I feel I redeemed myself by signaling for the bill in the correct Japanese style. (Cross one index finger over the other, and say 'thank you, Lonely Planet'.)
That was our introduction to Japan: nice, pretty, embarrassing, delicious. Also, bum-warming toilet seats. Love!
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