The Boulevard Of Teenage Fashion Disasters

Back in the real world, outside the kooky wacky loopy Yoshimoto universe, I was feeling a tat peckish. Made my way to Dotonbori. Got myself a serving of piping hot yummy-licious takoyaki. The loudhailer dude was up to his usual antics again. I stood by the side of the street, tucked into my hot snack while witnessing the ensuing and rather entertaining drama between the loudhailer dude and a band of six policemen.

The six policemen formed a circle around the loudhailer dude. Their arms were crossed. They looked crossed. Six pairs of eyes burning into the loudhailer dude. They tried to persuade him to stop. Loudhailer dude ignored them and continued ranting into his oversized, mother-of-all loudhailers. Clearly annoyed with his antics, the policemen tried to bring him away. To stop them from doing so, loudhailer dude laid flat on the floor and continued his angry rants. Agitated and embarrassed (there was quite a crowd of onlookers), the policemen took to carrying the loudhailer dude back to the station. One to each arm. Two to each leg.

Took the metro to Osaka Castle Park, this time not for the castle, but Peace Osaka. The museum detailed

• Japanese aggression in China, Korea and South East Asia in the years leading up to and during WWII.
• US invasion of Japan in the ending stages of the war, in particular the air raid campaign on Osaka and the nuclear attack on Hiroshima.

Heavy stuff. Especially after all the fun I had at Yoshimoto Shotengai and Dotonbori. I walked out feeling depressed and questioning why I placed myself through it. Not questioning the need for such a museum of course but I guess I was just not in the right frame of mind for it.

Went on to Amerika-mura (アメリカ村, America village), the boulevard of teenage fashion disasters (TFD), hoping to lift some of the gloom Peace Osaka left me. My first attempt at TFD-spotting (three days earlier) was a dud. This time round, the TFDs were out in full force, undeterred by the rain. One lady had blue, green, blonde, red and purple hair. One dude had a blonde afro. Another had a Mohawk cut. Punk, emo, cosplay, R&B and some pretty lame wannabes, one could find them all, at the boulevard of teenage fashion disasters.

After I had my fill of TFDs, or rather the amusement they bring, I walked back to Dotonbori. Could not resist the draw of the place, easily my favourite part of Osaka. The district was jumping with colour and life even the miserable weather could not abate. Along the way I passed Shinsaibashi-suji Shotengai, where I got hairpins and a mascara tool for my wife. Not the usual or seemingly most romantic gifts a man can buy his wife while overseas but gifts I knew she'll be happy to receive and appreciate. My wife finds tremendous joy sourcing for tools useful for her work as a freelance make-up artist. On our holidays, that's almost the only thing she'll care to shop for.

After one last stroll around Dotonbori, I took the metro back to the JR Osaka station, where I left my backpack in the morning. It was a massive, crowded, confusing labyrinth of a station. Took me a fair while to locate the locker where I left my backpack. I had a quick dinner at the station and made my way to the hulking, 40-storey high Umeda Sky Building (梅田スカイビル), northwest of the station. Went up to the indoor observatory on the top floor. There was an outdoor observatory but it was raining too heavily for that. Sat down and watched the city light up as the sky turned dark. It was a beautiful sight.