Guinness travels well, even to the streets of Osaka.
It’s pretty much a given that no matter where you go, in any corner of the globe, you’ll find an Irish bar. Engrained in humanity’s love for alcohol, the Irish pub translates into every language. Another recommendation from my younger brother was Irish Pub Dublin Bay. Now, I’m a bit of a Guinness snob, and if you don’t pour it correctly, I’m calling Guinness HQ and grassing you up.
After scouring Singapore for the best part of two years, and pint after pint tasting like pissy coffee, I’d resigned myself to the fact that you just couldn’t get a decent pour of Guinness so far from its birthplace. Well, step forward Irish Pub Dublin Bay. Along with the most mystifying pub name you’ve ever come across, the Guinness was delightful. It didn’t taste like coffee, they only cleaned the glasses with hot water (which I’m told is a must), and they didn’t pour it in a one’ah’. I’ve never had the bollocks to send back a pint of the black milk after it’s been poured like a pint of Fosters—too polite.
If you do happen to frequent Osaka and you like a well-poured drop, get yourself along. You’ll be greeted with Irish music and a bar that feels so far removed from its actual location that it’s almost surreal. Maccy Dee’s, egg mayo sarnies, and Irish bars; look at me, being so culturally engrained in Japan.
I spent the day wandering around Amerikamura, which is street after street of vintage clothing and streetwear stores. The second-hand stores over here are lined with Supreme, Dior, Louis V, Chanel, and any other top-tier brand you could think of. Quite the jump from Blandford Street, but it also changes the concept of second-hand shopping slightly, in that you need deep pockets to pick up a few bits. I wandered around with my jaw on the floor mostly but had to remind myself we plan on spending seven months of this year in Bali, so a North Face X Supreme down jacket probably isn’t the best investment right now.
Another example of the Japanese doing things properly, no cutting corners and total pride in what they do, came in the form of a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop. Greeted by the happiest and most polite gentleman I’ve ever come across, we were given a choice of beans for our coffee. A device that looked like a glass trumpet was used to blow the scent of each bean into your face so you could have a whiff before making the most important decision of your life. We were then seated at an outdoor table with a device placed in front of us that measured the temperature of our coffee in the cup—to ensure we didn’t burn our lips, I assume. But nonetheless, it was very thoughtful and considered. Decent coffee as well. I’d say 9/10.
Got caught short in an ice cream shop, which is never an ideal scenario for anyone, but of course, I’m in Japan, so I was greeted with a warm toilet seat and an arse cleaner. Crisis avoided, and a pleasant experience had by all.
One thing I’ve learnt, an important drop of wisdom to pass on to others, is that no matter what the street food looks like, or what you’re expecting it to taste like, there is always the chance that it’s going to actually taste like fish in some way. You could be expecting doughnuts, cinnamon, or any other savoury warm snack. You think you know what’s coming. And then BOOM. Fish.
After dabbling our toes in the local food that wasn’t Maccy Dee’s, we thought we were purchasing a savoury snack drizzled with pepper mayo, maybe cheese or just bread inside. It was, in fact, squid. Not disgusting, but it does take you aback when you’re expecting something that sits on the blander side of the taste scale, and instead, you get hit with a fishmonger’s boot. It’s always best to be prepared for this.
The thing is, if I go into Maccy Dee’s for a Big Mac or 7/11 for a TikTok sarnie, I’m not going to get a fishy surprise. So that’s my argument for being less adventurous. Not boring, just safe. Not burping up fish when you didn’t plan on it is a fair argument.
Sayōnara, see you on the next one.