Long weekend, indeed.

Friday
A car locked in the parking lot of a bank I don't even use.
Cycling in the rain.
A cellphone with a flickering screen that reminds of disco lights or Outer Limits.
(they are watching)
Beer at Tara's and more than a slight annoyance with myself.
Good, good, good food and two Takahashi girls.
Clam factory.
And the last proper night's sleep in three days.

Saturday
7 am arrival in Niimi armed with backpack (contents: toothbrush, Zambian cloth, firepoi, camera, socks, dictionary, tshirt and wallet) and tent.
7:30 Bus to Shin-Osaka.
The Japanese dude that had to sit next to me looked petrified as he checked, re-checked and double checked his seat number. It took him les than 5 minutes to fall asleep (it's a special gift they have), and was soon leaning most of his body on mine as he dreamt about a world without white people.
10:30-something. Arrival in Shin-Osaka.
A slow walk through a fleamarket, and a lesson in Osaka-ben. "oo-kii-ni" means "thank you". A phonecall to Cisco Osaka while in the playpark, attention distracted by a tiny dog and two damn cute Japanese kids. The phonecall led us to the underground subway, the red Midosuji line, to the wonderfully seedy Shinsaibashi.
Arrival in Shinsaibashi
Loud music; rock and trance blaring from shop fronts. Everyone looks as if they fell from the circus bus. Strange kids. Second hand shops like you won't believe. Beer and sushi in the rain surrounded by Japanese misfits and the odd bum. Also a geeky-looking dude with a Lonely Planet, Japan. A kid with weird shoe fashion chases doves around the plain. Unsuccessful sunglass shopping in a shop with trolls. Ice cream in a strange shop where the man behind the counter wore a garage attendant outfit, and the decor was American enough to make me lose my direction.
Change to Daikoku-naninani
Mistake. The suburb features a drab-looking dude with a newspaper, and a gaijin that almost rode into a wall when Tara asks him "how ya doing". Consult Lonely Planet. We go back underground.
Change to Namba
Slightly better. Namba has a beautiful park, beautiful buildings. I'm hit by the realisation that I know of three people in Osaka, but forgot about them. Too late to contact them, as my phone has ceased to be. If it wasn't made from plastic it'd been pushing up the daisies. 100 yen shops and asking a construction worker for directions. The sun has set. We walk back to Shinsaibashi, where we've left part of our souls.
The directions are vague, the language barrier existant, and the map nonexistant. We end up in the part of town with the huge crab on the wall that I have seen in so many travel brochures. We gawk and gape and ask for directions.
I crave takoyaki, because the smell hangs around between raindrops and clouds of cigarette smoke. We're still lost. We find our way to where we were before. Looking for a nomihodai (drink all you can) place that starts with "pa". The word 'nomihodai' catches my attention between strings of Japanese words advertised by voice. We are led to floor 8 of a closeby building for 888 yen nomihodai. Two hours passes quickly. We stuff ourselves with food and cocktails, while thoroughly entertained by the clapping girl on the next door table. I get my takoyaki.

Only after this, the madness really started. Random Jap dudes with purple hair and facial piercings. Pickups on street corners cause foreign girls are easy. I meet a Sotho guy from SA, and greet him with a Sawubona. He appreciates my Nkomazi shirt. We stay much longer than indended. We stay in Osaka much longer than intended, but I fell in love with it's colourful undergroundedness. Where this post is at the moment, the night is still young, but I have lost interest in my writing.

Until later,
M.