For all its popularity, I’m sure Osaka has a lot of great qualities that don’t involve eliciting headaches from tourists like me who can be a bit on the spectrum when it comes to massive crowds squeezed within a limited land area the likes of a train station during peak hour where everyone has somewhere to go after a long day from somewhere doing whatever.

It was fascinating and disorientating at the same time: watching the rush of bodies going about in all directions; confidently striding to their destinations. They all seemed to know Osaka Train Station like the back of their hands.

At the same time, I watched the back of Dennis’ hand holding a map flat against the station wall, his other hand tracing complex directions that would lead us out of that maze and hopefully straight to our intended exit.

At the time, I didn’t really know where we were going. I didn’t really care. So when we jumped on the train at Nara Station and hopped out at Osaka instead of going directly back to Kyoto, I didn’t even bother to ask.

Osaka. Cool.

Known for its bright neon lights and street food, Dotonbori was the epitome of a busy — and equally quirky — Japanese scene. I especially loved the larger-than-life signs on top of the restaurants that gave the street an amusement park kind of vibe.

I can’t remember what food we tried out. Probably most of it, care of my younger sister who was in the habit of lining up to buy whatever caught her fancy and then coming back to the bench my mom used as headquarter so we can all sample them and decide for ourselves whether we liked it or not.

It was also in Dotonbori where we tried this obscure sushi restaurant whose name I can’t remember because I never bothered to take note. One of those ones off the main foot traffic, advertised by a mere sign board standing on the side of the street whispering invitations to potential customers walking around looking for something to eat.

The food was good, as per usual. It’s something you get used to quickly when you’re in Japan. There’s always that level of quality and umami you grow to expect, respect, and love. A labour of love and dedication consumed in a single bite.

Like, you can walk in any random resto and come out delightfully surprised. If you’re not too fussy with food, that is. Which I am. Not too fussy, I mean.

I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore.

Osaka was a quick stop. A little detour. Squeezing in as much Japanese cities as we could with our limited time frame to make the most out of our plane fares. I mean, we were already there so why not?

Raven loved Osaka — and Japan as a whole — because of, what else, the gachapons. But as an added extra, she and Adi also played the claw machine and won for themselves respective plushies that were too big they ended up hand-carrying them at the airport.

“Do you know that claw machines are kids’ gambling?” Jeff asked Adi.

Adi didn’t care. “Yay! Kids’ gambling!” she cheered.

We walked around a bit more after Dotonbori. Feel the vibe of the place, with all its busy-ness and its lights and the pockets of peace along the river. It had been a long day and all I wanted to do was sleep. I was starting to get a bit of a headache.

So back home to our little machiya we went. Raven squealing with excitement over the Hello Kitty train that greeted us at the platform.

Five minutes later she was already asleep.

*Raven at 7 years old