Bento Box Osaka
Arriving at Osaka station the footfalls of workers returning home resonated across the station, overwhelming my senses. Delving deeper into a subterranean network of shopping arcades, the lively sales pitch of store reps caught my ear, “Try this, Hokkaido seasonal!”, whilst store workers giggled amongst themselves. From my first impressions, it was easy to gauge that Osakans were much bolder and humorous when compared to the somewhat shy and reserved Tokyo denizens. Stepping into a shop selling manual coffee brewing equipment, I couldn’t help but notice that an expensive pour-over gooseneck kettle that had an absurdly low price label ¥400. When I checked with the sales person, he immediately apologised and explained that the label was incorrectly placed and that the actual price was ¥11,000. When I joked that I just missed an opportunity to finally pull together my dream pour over set for a steal, we shared a hearty laugh quite unlike Tokyo, where in all probability a sales rep would struggle to save face in the event of a misunderstanding. Despite my non-existent Japanese language skills, the Kansai dialect spoken in Osaka came across as somewhat distinct and Osakans themselves came across as somewhat feisty in contrast to the mild mannered Japanese people I came across in most other places.
Riding the Midōsuji metro line, I stepped out at Namba station. The promenades around Namba were lined with a seemingly endless row of restaurants, Osaka living up to its reputation as the kitchen of Japan. The iconic Glico Running Man stood out amidst the fervid neon cityscape as I approached Ebisu footbridge.
Tokyo usually grabs all the limelight, yet as I crossed the Ebisu footbridge, I could not help but stop for a while and admire the mesmerising reflections cast by the neon lights into the tenebrous Dotonbori canal. Strolling along the Dotonbori canal, Giant Crab and Octopus models vie for your attention. The Octopus models vary in terms of terms of appearance with some having a somewhat kawaii, Casper the ghost countenance. Yet others look like something straight out of a nightmare, which is not too surprising given that Japan is the eternal home of Godzilla in pop culture. Stepping into a restaurant with a somewhat innocuous looking octopus, I ordered a serving of Takoyaki, a ball shaped snack containing chopped octopus. Despite not harbouring a penchant for seafood, Takoyaki contained none of the strong fishy aroma of the sea that I loathe. Just like the mild mannered Japanese people, Japanese cuisine generally comes across as extremely inoffensive, with no overpowering odours or flavours. A few blocks away, I found myself savouring the marble like texture of Wagyu beef washed down with some sake.
Exploring the aisles of Japanese discount stores is another way to experience the quirks the country has to offer. As I explored the multi story department store, female tourists from mainland China virtually cleared the shelves of cosmetic and dairy products owing to the high levels of adulteration and often toxic products back home. Delving deeper in the store I found every imaginable quirky souvenir, ranging from replicas of vintage arcade machines to cosplay uniforms. Whilst searching for limited edition springtime Sakura Kit-Kat, I enquired with a store attendant about the availability of the same. She apologised profusely, “I sorry sir. No sakura kito-kato. Have sakura cokie”, directing me to a spring edition coca-cola bottle. Japanese women have a way of making everything sound kawaii.
Stepping of the store I went on to explore the darker alleyways of Dotonbori. Black taxi cabs careened along the narrow streets whilst stern-faced, suited men who could have passed off as members of the Yakuza, disappeared into the shadows. Family friendly establishments were replaced by pachinko parlours, hostess clubs and massage parlours. To quote Pico Iyer, “a bar in Japan will tell you exactly how many minutes of groping you get for your sixty bucks”. Further down the street Chinese women with heavily made up faces perched themselves on stools outside dodgy establishments, attempting to lure passers-by with the offer of “Massāji”. In many ways, this part of the city mirrored Kabukicho in Tokyo, whilst retaining its distinct Osaka character.
Whilst on a post midnight run to a nearby combini, I forgot to adhere to the Japanese way of depositing my money in the tray placed before me. Far from the awkwardness I anticipated, the store employee turned out to be extremely loquacious and was keen to know about my opinion of the Japanese way of life. In many ways Osaka and Tokyo felt worlds apart, especially in terms of spontaneity and humour.
Stepping inside the Hello Kitty themed Haruka Express, I made my way to Kansai International Airport. With my non-existent Japanese language skills I’m quite certain that I probably barely skimmed the surface in terms the understanding the laws that govern the Japanese society.
After an endless wait with the reassurance that our flight would take off as scheduled, the staff rather abruptly announced “Fo-right cancel”, which didn’t seem to yield any effect on the Japanese passengers. In contrast, most foreign passengers, began to experience panic attacks, including myself. The only other passengers on the same wavelength seemed to of Thai nationality, who shared the Japanese tendencies of being inward looking and avoiding conflict. A long term American expat explained to me that this is the Japanese way. Everything is okay, until you have a Fukushima level crisis. As I waited in line surrounded mainly by Japanese passengers, an older gentleman hailing from Okayama appeared to be grateful that the flight was cancelled, “maybe better flight cancel. Otherwise we go up, boom, Die”. A Burmese student shared the reverse culture shock she experiences upon returning back home: “When I go back to Yangon, I walk into glass door at shop because I am use to automatic combini door.” Further ahead, a pair of Japanese lasses giggled excitedly in anticipation of their Bali holiday. After an interminable wait for an alternative flight I ended up meeting them again on the ground in Bangkok and helped them find their transfer gate, to which I received a warm “arigatou gozaimasu”, after which we exchanged sayonaras.
Making my way through Suvarnabhumi airport in transit, I found myself replying with a ‘Hai’ in lieu of the Thai “chai” or a yes. Whilst exchanging courtesies I found myself bowing involuntarily. I do get the feeling that as we travel, we absorb bits and pieces from different cultures at a subliminal level.
