It’s Saturday, and I’m still sick, but it’s manageable. I’m taking Tylenol every 4 hours to keep the fever and headache at bay, and I do have some energy. I’m not about to run a marathon but I’m good for walking a couple of hours. First stop: Shabu-Shabu at Shabutai Shinsaobashi.
Restaurants in Japan can allow smoking indoors, and nowhere is it more evident than in Osaka. Luckily, our first stop had separate smoking and non-smoking floors, allowing us to enjoy our meal without the disgusting smell.
Shabu-Shabu, for those who don’t know, is what the insensibly named “Chinese Fondue” should have been. The simple version starts with a pot of boiling water, to which you add vegetables and, if you like, a little seasoning. By your side, you’ll have a plate of meat (we went for pork and beef). You grab thin slices with your chopsticks and dip them quickly into the hot water. The dipping should last about the time it takes to say “Shabu-Shabu” in your head. Then take out the piece and dip it in the sesame sauce that you’ve been given. From there, straight into your mouth. Repeat until you’re about out of meat or the vegetables in your broth talk to you too much. At some point, you make your way through the vegetables and add some udon noodles to finish. As with the meat and vegetables, transfer the noodles from the pot into the sesame sauce and eat from there.
Shabutai Shinsaobashi is well known for its sesame sauce and its great service, and it delivered on both counts, or so Karine tells me, as I’m not a big sauce guy and my stomach is not ready to consider anything too exotic, I kept myself to the boiled vegetables and meat. Think of it as chicken noodle soup without the chicken but with fatty beef, pork and more vegetables. Not a bad choice for a sick guy, actually.
From the restaurant, we walked to Osaka Castle, about a 45-minute walk away. During our walk, we noticed how grittier Osaka is compared to Tokyo. It’s not dirty per se, but you’ll see a little trash lying on the ground amongst crushed cigarette butts every couple of street corners. There’s also a larger range of how people dress. On weekdays, you’ll see a couple of people wearing formal wear (suits and the like), but, contrary to Tokyo, they are not the majority in the street. You’ll easily find non-conformists on the street. Karine loves it.
Getting to the grounds of the Osaka Castle is easy, as it’s one of the big attractions of the city. It is, however, hard to understand why it’s such a big attraction. At first glance, it looks good. It’s a big, gleaming white structure with a protective mesh on the top balcony to prevent the more air-brained tourists from doing something stupid. Once inside, that’s where the magic falls apart. As soon as you step in, you feel the AC and notice that there’s not a single wood beam or window visible. Walls seem made of concrete, and the stairs and elevator shaft certainly are. There’s nothing visible from the original structure. If you walked in blind folded, you would likely believe you’re in a bunker. Getting to the 8th-floor observation deck gives you good views of the surrounding city, even though it's not very high. From there, making your way down floor by floor is essentially a waste of time, except for the fourth and third floors, which contain interesting artifacts, but that’s about it. Unless you truly love poorly made videos, you can skip the other floors.
The Osaka Castle grounds make the trip worth it. You get to take pictures of a beautiful castle, even if you know it’s like taking photos of the Disney Castle. You won’t see many flowers there, but as a park, it’s still good. The wet moat (the outer moat) teems with turtles and shags (“cormorans” for French speakers), in addition to being impressive structures.
After the castle, we took the subway home, and I went to sleep for a couple of hours. I might be feeling better, but my body is still fighting something.
The Osaka subway system is efficient, and getting into it is usually straightforward if you can spot the small metro signs. Please do not rely on Google Maps; it will be of little help. Google is aware of the subway line and stops with an outstanding level of detail, but it knows the stations' positions, not their entrances and exits. It’ll happily guide you to the middle of the street and tell you to board the subway, even though it may be 5 to 20 meters below you through a couple of layers of asphalt and concrete.
Final mission of the day: sushi at Rokusen. Karine chose the place because it was reasonably well rated, and it used iPads to let customers place orders, reducing the wait time between finishing your first order and getting your second. The sushi was well-made, and the fish, to the level I’m able to judge it, seemed fresh. The real downside is that you don’t know where you’ll be seated and, more specifically, near whom. The restaurant is a smoking restaurant, and as we entered, a table of four by the entrance was lighting small cigars to wait out their next order. We were lucky enough to be seated at the far end of the bar, at the opposite end of the smoke cloud by the entrance, and could enjoy our meal without any disgusting smells. Remembering the words of Anthony Bourdain from his Osaka episode of No Reservations, exalting the merit of being able to smoke at a restaurant, Karine and I both think it’s one of the rare instances where we disagree with his assessment.
Tomorrow: Kobe and its beef!