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| No. 29 |
Arriving at Kansai airport is a life-long dream come true.
When I first became an AV Geek (aviation), I loved seeing pictures and watching
videos of planes landing at Kansai; my other favorite was Hong Kong Kai Tak,
which closed in 1998. For a small boy from a small city with a rather small,
landlocked airport, imagining an airport built on a man-made island was utter
fantasy. I’ve watched every Discovery Channel program about the airport,
fascinated by the engineering used to build an island and the unique design of
the terminal building – angled to resemble a slight exposure of a giant circle
that descends a over a mile underground.
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| The "curve" |
However incredible the architectural, environmental, and engineering
feats accomplished, even the best airports have their pitfalls. Without a doubt
the immigration line was the worst I’ve ever experienced. A clusterf**k of epic
proportions ensued with no fewer than six fully loaded international flights
arriving within fifteen minutes of one another. Of the twentyish immigration
desks, only ten were active; seven for Japanese nationals, and just three for
foreigners, even though foreigners outnumbered Japanese at least 3-to-1. Fortunately, a faint Wi-Fi signal had enough
bandwidth left for me to pass the advice onto Alex ahead of his arrival later
that afternoon. Lesson learned: never
again will I take my time walking from the plane – even if I’m not in hurry. My
only consolidation prize: passport stamp #29.
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| Of course there'd be a phallic object penetrating my sweeping city view |
Osaka’s overwhelming size seems at times endless. The
high-speed train to the city took well over an hour, passing many “towns” along
the way and stopping at others. My inability to interpret the route map reached
the point I feared I was on the wrong train. Drowning out my fears with the
soundtrack to You Only Live Twice, I found solace looking out at the changing
scenery, occasionally pivoting my attention to several passengers in
traditional Japanese dress, wooden shoes included. At long last I figured out
where I was and promptly disembarked [miraculously] at the correct metro
station. After checking into the hotel and familiarizing myself with the proper
protocol for using my Japan Rail Pass (courtesy of the concierge), I was given
a gentle nudge in the stomach when she mentioned the complimentary shuttle
service directly between the hotel and the airport, a much shorter 40-minute journey
(Alex wins again). Their complimentary service to Osaka station, i.e., the city’s
nerve center, was a welcome consolation prize.
I eagerly hopped aboard to rendezvous with a dear friend from Lexington.
Spotting the fabulous T. Maxey amongst an infinite
tsunami of people proved anything but daunting. A gorgeous woman, her
six-foot-four figure alone towered above everyone; her massive Diana Ross hair
spired upwards, increasing her height another foot at least! (And I thought her
presence commanded enough attention in the US!) Undoubtedly hundreds of eyes fixated
on us in astonishment as we skipped towards one another and jumped into our
arms with the biggest two-person hug ever seen in the Eastern hemisphere.
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| Glico Man |
At Taylor’s suggestion we made our way to Dotonbori, the
youthful, energetic beating heart of this megalopolis. A massive complex of
high-rises, restaurants, shops, malls, bars, clubs, you name it – lining either
side of a long, boat filled canal; Osaka’s eclectic, modern version of San Antonio’s
River Walk. The ten-story high “Glico Man” welcomes all, “sprinting” along a
rainbow track, arms raised high in jubilation as loud electronic dance music ricochets
off the buildings. Throngs of tourists extend their ridiculous selfie-sticks
while others unleash wave after wave of blinding flashes, capturing every pose
imaginable. Oh, the humanity!
Snacking and drinking our way through the district, I
quickly deduce Osaka’s reputation as an unending amalgamation of diverse
culture and intense energy an understatement. Clearly New York, Hong Kong, and
Shanghai secretly had a threesome and birthed this city – there simply isn’t
any other explanation. Copious amounts of saké, edamame, and sashimi gave way to
more specialized, local fare. One certainly doesn’t come across Okonomiyaki (O-ko-no-mi-ya-key)
often, if ever, in the US, except perhaps in major cities with a Japan Town. Call
it a “Japanese pancake,” this round, fried batter concoction is mixed with
vegetables such as cabbage, carrots, and onions, coated in a thick, brown
reduction, and topped-off with squid shavings or other thinly sliced meats.
“Unique” is the only word that comes to mind – unless I were traveling in a
moving vehicle whereby I could formulate many a negative description. I happily
requested a to-go box, tightly sealed, to pass onto Alex for his late-supper.
He enjoyed it far more than me.
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| Dotonbori |
My absolute favorite thing about traveling is meeting up
with friends in far-flung places around the world. Neither Taylor nor I could
have possibly imagined the last time we were together in good ole Lex Vegas –
five years previous – that our next encounter would be in Osaka. Just as I’m
thinking it can’t get any better, the universe reveals another trick from her
sleeve: our close friend from Beijing whom we wouldn’t be seeing while in China
had made a last-minute trip to Osaka and was out in Dotonbori.
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| Fierce |
Enter fashion legend Eddie K., renowned the world over for
literally purging 80% of my wardrobe in just under twenty minutes*. I’m fairly
confident he was moments away from having a stroke due to excessive eye rolling
as I pleaded my case to keep the other 20%. Eddie left my apartment that night
unscathed, but I made no secret that my unfashionable appearance this evening
surely would inflict nightmarish flashbacks. Poor Eddie – after a tremendous
amount of time, patience, and effort just to lift me to the lower echelons of
fashion, I greeted him in the plainest “American” attire imaginable: jeans,
bland shoes, and a simple, zip-up black jacket; nothing says ‘high fashion’
like Marshals. “At least you styled your hair,” he chuckled.
*Let it be known that Keith H. was there too and "just as brutal."
Alex and I waited outside, scouting out two small gay bars
in what I consider the cleanest alley on earth (Keep Calm and Embrace my
Exaggeration). Downstairs, Explosion was rife with festive youths awkwardly
“dancing” – read: standing upright, ever so slightly shifting body from side to
side, back to front, feet firmly cemented in place, sporting their most
enticing undergarments for tonight’s underwear party. Decent electric house
music and enjoyably eye-catching scenery were not enough to warrant paying the
excessive cover fee. For all our self-confidence, we politely declined the
doorman’s offer to waive our cover in exchange for stripping down to our
undies.
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| "You really need to let Alex buy clothes for you." - Eddie |
Upstairs, Physique Pride Osaka was more to our liking, a
quaint little bar no bigger than 150ft2 (ironic name choice compared
to neighbor below). The cozy atmosphere coupled with a witty, engaging
bartender who spoke perfect English easily allowed us to catch up, enjoy a few
too many drinks, and make friends with the other visiting patrons from Mexico,
Germany, and the US. Passersby assumed from our merriment that we were having a
private party – which to a degree wasn’t without merit. Having slowly become unaccustomed
to late night partying since moving to Austin meant our night drew to a close
far sooner than expected of us.
The following morning Taylor met us at the Osaka Living and Housing Museum complete with a full-scale mock-up of an Edo-period town. Despite resounding attention
to detail and impressive day/night transition simulation, strolling through this “soundstage” left me feeling rather
disappointed. In all fairness the museum makes a noble effort to preserve a
culturally significant period of Japanese history in the face of widespread
destruction during World War II and subsequent rapid modernization immediately
following. Osaka did not enjoy the same benefit of time, space, or
philanthropic capital afforded to Colonial Williamsburg. Regardless, the museum
includes both sketches and miniature models depicting the evolution of Osaka
from a small consortium of villages into the sprawling metropolis today.
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| Osaka Living and Housing Museum |
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