This day, it was kinda like the scene from Raiders of the Lost ark, where if you don’t close your eyes when the Ark of the Covenant is open your fake playdough body either melts or explodes with extreme hostility. That is to say, if you stepped into the sun, you were opening your eyes, but if you were in the shade, you were as cool as Michael Jackson pre-Dangerous. So depending on the time of day, and the position of the sun, the shady side of the street would be packed with people and the sunny side was deserted.

Apparently there’s these cafes where the waitresses are dressed up in over-exaggerated French maid outfits, and this is a trend. Some of the maids are out in the streets trying to solicit customers. I tried to take their pictures and they were none too pleased. Having been in these situations before, its rather pathetic how easily they accept my fake evidence of having deleted the photo of them from my camera, when in reality I just popped out the memory card. I was hoping the little vixen would draw some blood, or perhaps give me a nice smack on the cheek, but alas she was satisfied with my weak lie.

We checked out some used gear stores, but this being Japan, and the Yen being seriously over-valued, everything was a such a rip off that it made silk-market bargaining look good. The only used camera stores we came across stocked junk or used digital. Finally we wound up at the absolutely mammoth Akihabara Yodobashi camera, where we found my friend a new digital SLR. Interestingly enough the big Yodobashis are fully equipped with an army of Chinese sales staff, so we had good times talking to them and learned a bit what life was like for Chinese people in Japan. Amusingly, they said it was so-so and they didn’t really like it. But when we asked if they had any plans to move back to China, the answer was a resounding no without hesitation.

The rest of the afternoon was spent playing both modern and classic arcade games in many of the massive temples devoted to the machines whose ilk have been totally decimated by PC gaming and consoles.

After a day totally spent out, we reached up to an area of Tokyo I’ve never been to, Ikebukuro, to see what the scene was like. Actually we heard there was a small Chinatown up there, and because we didn’t have time to see the real one down in Yokohama, we were hoping for a second place prize. Instead we found an international town, with restaurants hailing from all over the world. Unfortunately they all looked a little japanified. Instead we settled on a ramen place that seemed to be quite popular. Outside the fine establishment were pictures of various what I assumed to be famous customers, trying the ramen live on TV. There was actually a line up to get in, and considering it was already 10pm, we figure it must have something special going on. That something special turned out to be a spigot that tapped directly into the FIRES OF HELL. Yes this ramen was the spiciest infernal ramen I’d have ever tasted. They actually had a spiciness scale of the different ramens they offered going up to ten. I was wise enough to opt for a 7/10 as I actually wanted to eat and enjoy my food, instead of becoming a sweaty nervous pile of waste. My comrade put me to shame, and went for a 9/10 bowl, a level only Satan could enjoy. For those curious the 10/10 bowl was actually just a plate of noodles with a bowl of purified magma broth.

Japan is world renowned for being oddly unique. I mean, when you ask the average 20 somethin guy in America what he knows about Japan, he’ll probably mention used panty vending machines, tentacle rape anime and game shows where the object is to humiliate the contestants in the most bizarre way possible. With this in mind, whenever I go to Japan, I’m always on the lookout for that kind of wacky shit, but to my dismay, all I encounter are staid salary men, surgically clean cities made up from a limited number of grey rectangular shapes and organization that would fill a Teutonic engineer with jealous rage.

So there I was, minding my business in the magazine section of Yodobashi Camera, eyes shifting from one fashion magazine to the next. All of the sudden a giant bacon cheese burger jumped at me from amongst the litany of glossy men dressed in painted on jeans. No really. It was an actual magazine devoted entirely to the divine creation that is the burger. Lightning or “別冊ライトニング” is a magazine that thoroughly covers different topics every issue like Hawaiian shirts, old tennis shoes, and vans with pop-up roofs. Sandwiched in between its pages were some photos so thick and juicy, if food porn exists, this perfect 10. This mag was so deliciously awesome I decided to scan a few of the pictures to give an idea of the ball busting burgers going on here.

I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again, the Japanese are pros when it comes to taking something the West does and doing it even better. I’d get lynched if I said another country did hamburgers better than the States, but damn, just look at these pictures and tell me with a straight face that the Japanese can’t cook a tasty burger.

The cover. In America if they had a cover like this there’d be lawsuits from people trying to eat the damn thing.

Don’t forget the French fries…

After reading this post I predict you will do one of two things:

A) Run to your nearest grocery store/butcher/farm and get you some beef.
B) Become a vegan.

[update: sept 1 2009] Just stumbled across this beautifully mouth watering website with hilarious vocals.

Eventually if you’re living in China, you’re gonna need to do a visa run. Although Fukuoka is a popular visa run spot for the Korean English teacher crowd, for some reason China expats stay away like a gay dude hiding from a vagina. HK is (or was now that the Olympic visa regime is in full effect) the place most expats hit up when they’re looking for a quick cheap visa. Although HK is interesting, you live in China damn it, so why not try a completely different culture? I know you say because it’s absurdly expensive, but there’s a reason why this run is to Fukuoka and not Tokyo. Depending on when you do it (like now for instance), this visa run might actually be cheaper than going to HK.

Unless you’re traveling on a rocket ship made out of grease lightning, you aren’t going to make it to the consulate before it closes at 11am. This is ok, because it gives you ample time to get sorted with your hostel/hotel and to get oriented with the city. You’ll need 2 nights or 3 days to do this.

Landing at the international terminal of FUK you then can take a free but longer-than-it should be shuttle bus that goes to the main domestic terminal. Sometimes I wonder why they didn’t just make a giant tunnel connecting them with one of those people mover ramps. Better still would be a giant catapult that launched weary travelers into a vat of live chickens. From here you can get on the subway and head straight downtown. Just stay on the same train and get off at Hakata Station, nice and easy. Hakata station is pretty big, because it also has the JR bullet trains on the upper floors, and has dozens of stores and restaurants built into it.

If you’re not looking to waste money you could be spending on delicious Japanese booze, you should stay at one of the two hostels in the general vicinity of Hakata Station. These places are the cheapest in Fukuoka unless you want to resort to a bottle of Suntory Whiskey and a park bench. If you want a more social atmosphere, and a closer walk to the station, you’ll want to stay at the Khaosan Fukuoka Hostel. The people there are friendly, helpful and obsessively clean. There is also lots of those weirdo backpacker people that never seem to shave or cut their hair sneaking around. As weird as they are, get a few beers in em and they’re good times. This website will show you exactly how to get there from Hakata Station. KFH has dorms for 2500 yen, and single private rooms for 3500 yen, but the single rooms are the size of a closet, and have no furniture except a mattress and covers on the ground. Check-in seems to be from 9am-9pm and check out is 11am. There is no curfew, but they lock the door at 9pm, they give you a code for the door on a piece of paper, don’t lose it like I did and spend your night watching drunken salary men stumble home.

Fukuoka Youth Hostel is just a bit further away, and offers much larger rooms, but a more sterile atmosphere. They seem to cater more to Japanese than international backpackers so it’s boring but quieter. Note that the cheapest rooms FYH has are 3500 yen doubles though they’re the same size as a business hotel room. The bathrooms there are shared but bigger and more private than Khaosan. Supposedly there’s no curfew, but I was told they lock the door at 1am so I don’t know how that’s going to work. I didn’t feel like experimenting after forgetting the code at the Khaosan. Also check-in isn’t until 4pm so if you arrive before that, you can leave your bags (for them to put in your room if it’s empty WTF??) So both have trade-offs. Personally I think it would be better to stay at the KFH on the weekends when there are lots of people around, plus you can get in and out at any time. Check below for how to get to the Fukuoka youth hostel.

The cheapest way to get to the consulate is to get on the subway at Hakata and go to Nishijin Station. Check my map down below and follow these instructions: Get out at exit 3 and walk till you get to the big intersection and turn right, keep heading up that road along the creek until you get passed the third bridge. You’ll know you’re there when you see lots of guards around it, possibly the special police, and also a big group of nationalist protestors and their ridiculous vans covered in Japanese flags and loudspeakers spewing off crazy sounding rants. The full walk is about 10-15mins. Also on the way back to Hakata, make sure to get on the right train, some trains switch lines and head to Kaizuka, you don’t want to go there, trust me.

Once inside, take a number immediately by pushing the top button on the machine. While you’re waiting to be called fill out the form. The applications line is on the right and the left line is where you come to pick up and pay for your visa. As of May 2008 you need:

• Full accommodation itinerary printout of hotel bookings with your name on it from the computer OR
• Housing Contract with your name on it that states where you live OR
• Written invitation from a resident that says you’ll be staying with them for the duration of the visa and copies of their ID card, etc.
• Returns air tickets in and out of the country
• Photocopy of your passport and the Japanese visa you have (they have a pay per use photocopy machine in the consulate)
• 1 passport photo
• And you’ll be damned if you forget your passport.

The next day head back to the consulate. Don’t forget your receipt. Pop 7000 yen into the machine at the entrance, you’ll actually need to buy a 6000 and 1000 yen ticket because for some reason they don’t sell 7000 yen tickets. If you’re lucky like me, the machine will have a nervous breakdown while you’re using it and the accountant will come out from a little box proceed to beat the crap out of the machine. Once you get the tickets head to the window on the far left, where you’ll get your visa back. Once you’ve got it, you’re free to get the hell out of Japan, or stay and enjoy some pork ramen.

MAPS

Ok just follow the main street that runs diagonal from Yodobashi camera, its the same street you use to get to Khaosan. You might want to take a bus because it’s about a 20 min walk. Go until you get to the Mobil gas station, turn right, then turn left at the Lawsons which is very close, and you’ll see on the left. Follow the green line on the map. Get on any bus that has the characters 山王丁一 and you’ll get there for about 250 yen. If you get lost the address for the taxis is: 6-7-23 Hakata-eki Minami, Hakata-ku, Fukuoka-shi OR in Japanese: 福岡県福岡市博多区博多駅南6-7-23. Their phone number is: 92-473-4555.

Just follow the green line, this one is really easy, only about 10 min walk. And sorry I have no idea what those little swastikas on the map are for. The consulate is the little grey building at the top! The address: Fukuoka-shi, Chiuo-ku Jigyohama 1-3-3, 福冈市中央区地行浜1-3-3. Phone number: 92-713-1121.

Some notes: The consulate has English visa application forms but that’s about it, everything else is in Chinese and Japanese, and there’s little to no English signage. The people working there also have some limited English, so make sure you’ve got everything in order first, follow the instructions here and you should be ok. If not the Japanese secret police waiting outside will kidnap you and feed you to the robots (there’s a robot museum right by the consulate!)

If you get lost and need to take a taxi, they are expensive starting at Y550 to get into, but the drivers are generally quite helpful, and they all have those GPS TV map gismos. The ride from the hostels to the consulate is about 3500 yen give or take.

You’ll probably end up spending more money than if you had gone to HK, but damn, if you’ve already been there a few times, Fukuoka is a breath of fresh air (both literally and figuratively of course).

The first few days I was running around like a decapitated chicken trying frantically to get my visa situation sorted. The last two days I was chillin out, maxin, relaxin all cool and shootin some b-ball outside of the school.

Japan’s main industry is awesomeness. There are so many good things about that little banana shaped island I could make a whole damn blog about it. Instead here are some things that are not just awesome, they’re also completely whack.

I love biking, and despite being one of the wealthiest nations on earth, a large percentage of Japanese still use bikes to get around. So what’s the problem with that you ask? Well, they all do it at the same time, ON THE SIDEWALK. They have this tendency to wiz by you, their handle bars just barely impaling you like a piece of street meat. If I lived there, I would be maimed in short order because I have a tendency to walk crooked at night. It’s the effect of the moon.

The girls. It’s a giant parade of hotness. A nuclear arms race of Gucci and fake tans. In an average day in Qingdao, I probably see about 2 or 3 really good looking girls. In Fukuoka I couldn’t open my eyes without being blinded by the hot. Problem with them is, that’s all they are. Hot. Nothing more. No substance. They’re like a really fancy hotdog, with all the trimmings, maybe even some chili. But hot dogs don’t fill you up. Hell that one Japanese guy can eat like 50 of em.

Everything is clean. So clean, I would abide by the five second rule outside on a street corner. It’s that clean. You’ve seen the robotic toilets that do the dirty work for you. The anti-bacterial napkins that are given before each meal. The no shoe rules for going inside many buildings. Yeah it’s all well and good to be clean, but you gotta draw the line somewhere. I mean the hostel I was staying at, SHUT DOWN every day from 11am-3pm so that the staff could scrub every crook and cranny in the place. And it wasn’t just one or two people, no, it was like 6 or 7 people, mopping, sweeping, vacuuming, everywhere. I mean no one wore shoes inside, so how could this place become THAT dirty after less than 24 hours?

Rules rule. Japanese society has gotta be one of the most organized and orderly on this planet. Their manners are amazing, people are always polite and no one seems to get mad. But damn, do they love following the rules even when said rules were obviously written by some half-retarded monkey. The last day I was there, I had to change hostels because the one I was in was full. So I went to go check in to the new one at 11:30 am. It was a ghost town. Absolutely no one around. The guy at the front desk duly informed me that check wasn’t until 4pm sharp, but he could take my bags and put them in my room for me because no one was there! Pedants are as common as crab cakes.

Finally. The Nissan Skyline GTR. The best Japanese car ever made, and by extension one of the best cars to come off an assembly line. Too bad the piggies get to drive them too.

The bullet trains out of Tokyo Station run more than every hour, and they take you from there all the way down to Kokura, the northern most city on the island of Kyushu, in about 5 hours and a bit. There are different kinds of bullet trains, and I opted for the one that allowed me to see the beautiful Japanese countryside at 300KM/h. They call it the Noizumi and it’s about $200 one way. May seem a bit much, but it makes few stops, the seats are big, there’s tons of leg room and you get to check out Kyoto and Hiroshima on the way. A lot of the time you spend barreling through the darkness of mountain tunnels. It can be strange going at that speed on ground for extensive distances. If the train were to hit anything on the tracks, or even worse, collide with another train, it would probably give Hiroshima a run for it’s money.

Once I made it to Kokura, I had to transfer to another train and backtrack to Shimonoseki, where all the ferries to China and Korea were. This was no easy task being as I was caring around all my luggage and a bike, and there were no directions on where to go to switch trains. I somehow accomplished this using my superpower of reading overhead signs in Japanese. Hint: look for the symbols printed on your ticket.

I finally arrived in Shimonoseki around 7:30, exactly 30 minutes after the city had officially shut down for the night. I checked into the Wing International Hotel, conveniently a minute’s walk from the train station, and proceeded to the nearest 7/11 where I acquired several rations of microwave gyoza (something I am strangely addicted to), Sapporo Draft and dried fruit snacks.

The next day, I assembled my long dormant bike and spent most of the day cruising around the city. At first it reminded me so much of Kitchener, because it’s really only that big, and had a real towny feel to it, but then it started to remind me of Preston, because the average age of the population appears to be 76. There really wasn’t anyone around and it was eerily quiet other than the random old Japanese person walking by. The city is clean, not as anti-septic as Tokyo, but better than anywhere in China. The waterfront is nice, lots of little piers and boardwalks and there’s a Marineland type deal with windows where you can check out the dolphins who will give you the “free willy” look. One of the interesting things I saw as I pedaled along was a fisherman catching a medium sized octopus which I’ve never seen done before, and the bait he had used was a squid.

Later in the day I picked up my $160 dollar boat ticket, which has gotta be one of the cheapest ways to get to and from this island, and I figured that being as it was to be my last night in Japan I might as well have sushi. While I was at the travel agency, I asked the helpful agent where the best place was in town. She pointed me to this place called Karato Ichiba, a fish warehouse, and told me to head to the second floor.

So I left around 6:15, and arrived at the place but it looked dead. I began thinking she had played a little joke on the gaijin, but I climbed up to the 2nd floor and sure enough nestled in between the offices of the warehouse was a sushi place. And what a place it was, it had a multi-page waiting list, where you had to write down your name, then go wander around and wait for the lady to shout your name. Luckily I was on my own, and even though there was a relaxing looking sunset going on outside, I quickly got called up to take my place at the sushi bar. I then tried very hard to put several species of fish into extinction. The sushi was so damn good, I don’t even know what to compare it to. The fish was so fresh as the warehouse was downstairs. Every morsel was like eating a piece of molten butter. I know that sounds disgusting, but both you and I know, if it weren’t horribly fattening, we would do it. It was so smooth and there was no fishy taste to it at all. If I was blindfolded, I wouldn’t have even known what the hell I was eating. These fish were obviously caught with the bare hands of virgin supermodels in the crystal clear lakes of Elysium. I ate a pretty massive amount and picked more than my fair share of the more expensive fatty fish sushis, had a draft Asahi, and the bill only came out to $34. I bet tubby cockneys spend more than that on frozen fish sticks.

So now I’m almost out of this interesting little city in south Japan. I leave in the morning, and I’ll be oddly happy to get back to Qingdao and into a place where I can understand the swear words the locals are yelling at me. I like Japan, but unless you know the language, you’re pretty much as useless as a girl in a gay bar cause very few people speak English, and once you get into the smaller cities, it’s only the travel agents and the one guy in the Hotel. Also I can’t help but feel like I’m getting the stink eye from some of the older people, which is almost everyone, but I don’t really care. One more funny thing about this town, apparently it’s the capital of the Fugu fish, the puffer fish that only has a tiny little piece of edible meat, and the rest is deadly. Every year some poor wanker dies from eating one. No, this year that wanker will not be me.