Visit to Osaka and Happy Holidays!

Hey everyone! I know it’s been a while and I’d like to apologize for the lack of posts, especially to my patrons who bought me this account and domain. So, sorry, Cory and Dad. And sorry to anyone who has enjoyed reading and commenting on the blog. It really is fun to do and I hope to keep it more up to date heading into next year.

Anyway, two days ago it hit 70 degrees for the first time since probably mid-September, and today it snowed. It’s not cold enough for it to stick but the ground is dotted white for a few minutes after each dusting. I thought this kind of weather whiplash was only possible in the Midwest, but apparently they’ve got it here too. So it seems the Japanese aren’t the only ones who think the weather where they’re from is unique when it really isn’t, haha!

Now, back to. . . early November. Sheesh. I went to Osaka for my first trip out of the area since I’d arrived in August. Osaka is one of my favorite cities, and I made sure to spend some time there on each prior trip to Japan. It’s the second biggest metro area in the country after Tokyo, and has a reputation of being kind of dirty, very energetic and friendly, and a bit rough. And by Japanese standards it certainly walks the talk and relishes in it. There’s a big rivalry between Osaka and Tokyo that goes back several hundred years from when Tokyo developed as the country’s political capital and Osaka as its mercantile powerhouse. It’s not one to one but thinking of it like New York and Boston may give you a decent idea. I decided to visit this weekend for one big reason: the end of the Japanese baseball season. This year, two teams from the Osaka area were playing for the championship and I wanted to see if the city would be even livelier than usual. The two teams were: the reigning champion Orix Buffaloes, with their stud starting pitcher Yoshinobu Yamamoto (whom I’m sure the baseball fans reading this will become quite familiar with soon, as he’s coming to the States next season), and the Hanshin Tigers. The Tigers have a MASSIVE fan base, second only to (you guessed it) the Tokyo Giants, historically the most successful team (but with an astonishing display of mediocrity in recent years). The Tigers, on the other hand, hadn’t won a championship since 1985. That year, after the team clinched their league pennant, fans celebrated by having lookalikes of each starting team member jump into the disgustingly green-tinted river in the city’s famous Dohtonbori nightlife district. However, they had no lookalike for the team’s lone non-Japanese player, bearded Randy Bass from Oklahoma, who had been on an absolute tear that season. So, ingeniously, they decided to take a Colonel Sanders statue from outside a nearby KFC and throw it into the river. This raucous display of vandalism led to the “curse of the Colonel”, which entailed years of abysmal performances sprinkled with postseason heartbreaks. Throughout this season’s run, inspired by a quote from the first-year team manager (who played on the 1985 team), newspapers in Osaka refused to use the words “championship” or “champion”, instead euphemistically referring to it as “that”.

I arrived as the Tigers were leading the series 3 games to 2, with Game 6 scheduled for the following night. Despite October having come and gone, it was remarkably warm and I changed into a t-shirt at my hotel before heading out into the nearby Dohtonbori streets. This ended up being a better idea than I expected, because it was genuinely hard to maneuver through the near standstill crowds and in heavier clothing I would have been a one man sweatshop. The place was full of tourists Japanese and foreign, so I’m assuming it was not only due to the baseball influence. After some typical meandering about I went in to an izakaya with some locals I met on the street (friendly Osaka!) and sampled a bunch of Japanese bar food. Oh, I also had to have some takoyaki beforehand, which is a classic street food consisting of fried dough balls with pieces of octopus inside, covered in mayonnaise, a special savory sauce, and bonito flakes. You can find it all over Japan, but the takoyaki in Osaka is supposed to be the best. I couldn’t really tell the difference, but that was probably because I was trying to eat it quickly on the side of the road and burnt off my taste buds, as I felt weird being in the gaze of the dozens of people passing along the street by the minute.

My hotel room view looking into the dense, dense city.

The only photo I have of part of the scene lining the Dohtonbori river, circa 2017. . .

A giant Buddhist statue I saw on the way to Osaka, built during the economic bubble of the 80s and slowly falling into disrepair since. One of several across the country.

The next morning I noticed a curry bread shop at my hotel’s ground floor. Turns out, this is a chain shop owned by a pretty famous Japanese youtuber called Rafael. When I first got to Japan I wasn’t sure how easily Japanese people could pronounce Raffaelli, so I decided to go by Angelo (in Japan surnames come first and are the common way to refer to people). This really turned out for the best, because whenever I tell anyone my last name they immediately think of this Rafael guy. The first time I thought people were surprised because it sounds like the painter, but after I got the equivalent of “what the hell are you talking about?” and had their thought process explained to me I decided to stick with Angelo. However, I thought this incident too great a coincidence and went into the shop, had some fantastic curry bread (a great choice after a night out) and told the staff my name. I got a sticker of the guy’s logo out of it so that was pretty neat. Still haven’t seen a single video of his though, lol. Afterwards, I walked around the city pretty aimlessly, visited a temple and a park by the city’s big river (not the Dohtonbori), as well as the Osaka City history museum, which had a great view of the Osaka Castle grounds. It came time for the game and I quickly ducked into a fun looking restaurant, but a) it was not very fun, and b) by the 5th inning it was 4-1 Buffaloes and the Tigers’ bats were as dead as the restaurants’ clientele. Feeling pretty tired anyway I went back to the hotel to watch the rest of the game, deciding that if the Tigers somehow pulled it off I’d go back out. They did not, and I had a great night’s sleep. Game 7 would be tomorrow night, Sunday, so I’d have to watch it at home. Game 7 was a one-sided slaughter, with Texas native Sheldon Neuse (pronounced noisy), after a quiet series so far, hitting 2 home runs en route to a 7-1 Tigers victory. “That” had been achieved. No statues were thrown this time, but at least two people dressed as the Colonel passed the police barricade and jumped into the dirty Dohtonbori river.

Castle grounds from the museum.

I pulled this sticker out of my travel backpack, for the first time since putting it there when I first got it, to take this picture.

Stay tuned, because some time later this week I’ll post a photo dump with some captions for context regarding other events and things from the last two months!