Osaka and Akiba

Well what more is there to do in Osaka? Not that much really – but the same streets are just as good to wander during the day as they are at night!

This time the Disney store was open, and all the characters were jumping off the wall. I also heard music for a Lilo and Stitch music video, and wondered if it was by The Pillows. It was! My most favourite of all Japanese bands – they did the soundtrack for FLCL. They're quite fantastic. I'll have to track down the source of this music video song in the future.

After the Disney store was wandered, and cooed over, we headed out to the streets once more and came across a music shop. I'm not sure who suggested we go in, but when we got to the piano section, I saw a song book of Final Fantasy songs displayed. Alan had picked it up and put it down.

What better way to combine the hobbies of Mike and Tonia than through this book? She likes piano – he digs Final Fantasy. Snatching it up, Mike went and bought it. Apparently they were going to the FF Symphony back in Toronto. What a coming together.

On the shelves I saw the music book for Chrono Trigger and claimed, picking it up, that it was gone forever never to be put down. And I too made my purchase. This would become the greatest thing I bought in the entire country. I passed up buying the FF7 song book however.

[authors note: I have tried to find it in other cities, and stores since – no luck. Lesson learned – you see something unique? Buy the bloody thing.]

This music store had made coming to Osaka worth it (not that the ball game didn't... but that wasn't really IN Osaka was it? It wasn't.)

After our shopping we hightailed it back to the station, where we caught a train back to Tokyo. We missed our train. But through the magic of the JR Pass we were on the next one without any penalty. It's also good that Japan runs trains twice an hour from most cities to Tokyo.

Back in the big city it was time to show Tonia Akihabara. She left before we got to the – unique – shops last time. This would be different.

Smut, smut, smut.

Eight levels of items ranging from anime costumes used for purposes other than Halloween, to figres of characters doing all sorts of terrible things to themselves, and to others. Rule 34 comes to life in this part of the world. Business men search through boxes of hentai with each other, perhaps finding the latest Phoenix Wright porn comic, because – of course – those exist here.

There is a floor of video games in which you do the most terrible of things. And movies where you can watch it all play out, if you're too lazy to click yourself.

You know, I thought I could describe these locations, but I can not. Not in a public forum. Just know that rule 34 is all alive and well here. And just about the only thing lacking was tentacles (strange they should be missing.)

With that out of the way, and Tonia starting to understand that mysteries of the country, we headed to Super Potato – the greatest video game store of them all. They sell just about every game every made for every system. Just be prepared to pay for the rarer ones.

Luckily if you're into RPGs you can grab Chrono Trigger or FF[anything] for about five bucks each. While you'd pay hundreds back home, here they're nothing. It was just a shame that they were sold out of Mother (Earthbound) carts.

Also, you know, you'd need a system to play them on. And knowing how to read Japanese would help out a lot too.

Without getting into it too much – another smut building showed Yoai to the masses. “Are those boys?” / “Yes.” / “Both of them?” / “Yes.” / “But look at them? Are you sure.” / “Yes!” / “O.K. but that's girl right?” / “THEY'RE ALL BOYS!”

It takes some people a while to get used to the idea.

The best line of the night: “Used panties?! Why would anyone pay for used panties? I've already got used panties!”

In cases like these it's probably best not to press the explanation.

Go Go Go Hanshin Tigers!

GO! GO! GO! Hanshin TIGERS!

We grabbed the train to Osaka and then hurried to make it to the ballpark in time to catch the first pitch of the Hanshin Tigers playing the Tokyo Swallows (really? There wasn't a better name than that, Tokyo?)

There is no parking lot at the stadium, only a train station, and all together we forced ourselves off the car, down the platform, and into the ballpark. I had been excited for this since I heard of it. I wanted to catch a game last time I was in Tokyo, but it was not to be. Now here, just outside of Osaka – at one of the most important stadiums in the country – I was ready to watch two teams I'd never heard of duke it out.

As soon as the first pitch was thrown the crowds started to scream. When Tokyo was up to bat their supporters screamed out at the players, and when the Tigers were up, the staudium errupted with the voices of over forty thousand people screaming things I could not understand.

Stew found a noise making bat for me, and I made my own fun slapping it in my palm along with the songs. This was baseball as it should be. Loud, noisy, with everyone involved. While there was no announcer to say who was up next, there didn't need to be. Every player had their own chant, and it was instantly obvious.

When one of the Swallows came up to bat the supporters all pulled out Canadian flags and started to wave them in the air, some members playing Oh! Canada on the brass instruments they'd brought.

Each time this Canadian player walked up to the plate they repeated this. Except the one time I tried to film them. That was one time they let it go. Ugh.

They played like a AAA team, meaning things happened. There were errors, exciting plays, and you were never sure what would happen next. Out on the grass, under the bright lights, I knew I was seeing baseball as I'd imagined it as a small child.

There was another way that they perfected baseball here. You could not do the Wave. Signs were up. Anyone attempting the activity could be removed from the ballpark. I think we need to add this to North American rules to. And while you couldn't do that during the 7th inning, everyone blew up giant phallic balloons and shot them off into the sky. Wave bad, flying erections? Just fine. Oh Japan!

Once the Tiger's won the game, fans stayed in their seats, taking part in the post game karaoke ritual. It was fantastic and wonderful. But that's when it hit me – all this fun was regimented and structured. Everyone chanted the same cheers, yelled the same thing. It was only I who broke from that to scream other things. And during the clapping chants, everyone stopped clapping at just the right second. Only or group let loose an awkward after-clap.

Perhaps this was not baseball at its best. Everything that seemed so random and strange and exciting was really predetermined long before we took our seats.

I'll have to think more on this.

On the way to the train to take us back to Osaka we passed KFC. A very special KFC. Inside a magic life-preservation tube is a statue of the colonel all white and chipped. You see, it is protected as it carries a terrible curse. True story.

After the Tiger's took their first championship fans got rowdy, stole the colonel and threw him in the river. They never won a championship again, except for the year someone tried to fish it out and died in the process. That death allowed them a win that year. Recently it was pulled out, and the championship winning can continue. But the people here know not to mess with that statue now.

Back in Osaka we headed out to explore the nightlife. This is a city that is made for tourists – but domestic ones more than foreign I think.

Large lit up objects put Shinjuku to shame. There were dancing crabs, angry chef faces, people running that played music on the hour. It was a fantastic wonderful place, which also offered a Disney Store (Tonia and I squealed in glee – becoming crushed to learn it had already closed.)

Bright lights, big city. This was the location where we would leave our friend Stew behind. He was off to catch a flight to Shanghai, China. And he would be missed. Before we left, I set my camera to take a group shot, saying I needed to wait until no one was around to steal it. I joke of course, as there is so little crime in Japan. Of course that's when a bunch of bikers started to hang around. Sigh. Why do I bother talking some time?

We took our Christian Rock photo, all looking different directions, and then Stew made his exit.

For us, Osaka still offered tasty treats, and far too many bright lights than we could ever grow accustomed to.