Four Hundred Days Til Re-entry

Sunday photoblogging - 2 Sunday on Wedensday

Mixtures of business and Mariko having the camera delayed this one a bit. We headed into Osaka to meet friends. I wasn't clear about where we were going until I actually got there but it is a definite recommendation for those of you who might one day make it to Japan.

It was a kind of mock-up of what Japan was like a hundred years ago. Known locally as the Showa Period it was after the Meiji Restoration, when Japan started talking to the world. Things were troubled even then, with new Western Issues battling with old Eastern Issues, and Japan is odd even by Asian standards. Luckily the place and the history book had only a nodding a aquaintance with each other, like people who live in vaguely the same area.

The attraction occupied the fifth up to seventh floors of a building that also contained an amusement arcade. Floor five was more or less entirely food. For a quick stop you could eat more or less anything Japanese. Alas, the prices were not circa 1900 but nearer circa 2030, though the food was good. We had okonomiyaki, a fairly safe bet for anyone travelling who is not into the more grizzly Japanese fayre. Raw sea-urchin and the like.

The sixth floor was more of the same, with a few of the more lamentable types of tourist traps thrown in. The crown jewel was the ghost-doll show. Rob and Mio went in for it and Mio came out looking a bit the worse for wear. It was 500 yen (£2.50) and took rather less than two minutes to complete. The scary thing was that A) they expect you to pay so much for so little and B) People actually pay it.

On the third floor was the showForgive the quality of the photos, it was pitch-black in there:

It was almost Vaudeville meets Last Samurai meets pantomime. Not that I have anything against any of these. Unfortunately, the person who wrote the show must have done so in some kind of fevered frenzy. The centre piece of the show was a chant, which went, "oboosan wa he wo koita." This translates as "the priest farted." As if these vast flights of comedy weren't enough there was a series of gestures that went with it. The story, from what I could gather, was about a woman who feld to Las Vegas after being taunted by her husband. I think he said she smelt, or had put on weight or something. Mercifully, most of the details were hidden in songs and I was distracted by Makikos assurances that it had been exactly the same the last time she had been. Aparently, it all ended well and the two of them flew back to Japan on a trapeze wire with half of the audience trying to look up their skirts.

The true highlight of the show was when the red-haired wench, and I can scrcely think of a better word, came over to have a chat after the show. Either she liked what she saw and wanted to know more or she wanted to practice her English on me. Ho-hum, nothing does it for me like green spotty tights and a bright red wig.

Anyhow, we decided to stick around for beers and finished-up at a nomihoudai (lit. drink as much as you can). The shop is called shirokiya (lit. white tree shop) and is a fine place to eat / drink on the cheap. The other nice thing about it is the guy who built the empire, killing off the opposition and plastering is face all over the place in the process. I had a headmaster like that at Grammar school. My old headmaster, however, was not a closet scouser like this guy. Here he is below - aparently a lifelike characature. The hand behind his back is probably clutching a stolen car radio or something.

posted by Between daisies @ 11:13