I have mentioned before that I love the peace and tranquillity of Japan Town, by day. By night this quiet area of the city takes on a different character, as we found out last Sunday.A weary Dan and Maria, his girlfriend, had returned from an epic adventure along the Northwest coast, and we shared some happy hour beers and developed further road-trip envy as their tales unfolded. We ate in a lovely Japanese restaurant called Osaka, with good and tasty food and THE loveliest server with enough genuine warmth to make up for a thousand fake ' have a nice days.' After sharing some starters and having frankly massive main courses, she convinced us (it wasn't hard) to try their signature dessert dish, Tempura ice cream; green tea ice cream encased in tempura style pancake, deep fried and served with raspberry sauce. We shared it four ways and made short work of it. The temptress was right, it would have been rude not to have tried it. The dish is so popular she told us, that a regular patron always orders some starters and then a tempura ice cream to herself and uses her finger to lick the plate clean.
In public.
Yes, it was that good. But, for a change, this isn't a post about food....
Very full and happy, we ventured further into the depths of Japan town to see what other delights it could offer us. It didn't disappoint. One tiny karaoke bar later, we ordered some expensive and ridiculous cocktails and watched, remembering, almost, not to stare rudely, as the truly tone deaf did their thang. What many of these people lacked in talent, they more than made up for in total unselfconscious confidence and it was a wonderful sight to behold. After a few minutes, we realised that we were the only people there who didn't know each other and there was food set out on all the tables. As each singer wished the same girl happy birthday, our thoughts were confirmed; we had accidentally crashed someone else's private party. I had even had a conversation with a woman at the bar, but no one seemed to mind us being there...even so, we finished our drinks and left. Bad singing is a great novelty but one which soon wears off.
Our next port of call was even stranger. I'm not sure how much to tell you, dear reader. Let's just say, we suspected something not quite right was a-foot in the separate rooms for hire, and the bar lady had NO idea about how to pour drinks. I mean, none whatsoever, as if she had never drunk, never seen a drink prepared or held a bottle in her hand or even knew of the existence of alcoholic beverages but had at that moment woken up, Dr Samuel Beckett style, in a bar. The next day when I read reviews of the place, it was alleged this bar is the front to a brothel, and I can well believe it.
On the way home, we met a man who looked like a tramp who told us that he was a 'Nam veteran and asked us for money for food. I mistakenly uttered the words, 'sorry, we don't have any change' to which he angered instantly and shouted "I'M NOT A BUM! I am a Vietnam VETERAN and I am asking you for MONEY for FOOD...." We could still hear him aggressively shouting about the state of the world today as we hurried away, having not parted with our bus fare home.
Still, on the plus side, the road-trip envy hasn't lasted for long and we are currently planning our own little jaunt. I am brimming over with excitement at the prospect and accidentally crashing a bad singer convention, going to a (suspected) brothel, and being shouted at by an angry bum has done little to diminish that enthusiasm.
1 comment:
It also smelled strongly of bleach and there's the fact that the karaoke rooms are $500 to hire. $500?! I shudder to think what you get for that. Come on Eileen's not worth it.
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